


Ace Iverson and the Fabric of Fate

by ACI100



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Ace is in for a WILD ride, Aged Up Percy Jackson Character(s), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Badass Demigods, Better Demigod Powers, Cato blows everything up, Eventual Romance, F/M, No Needless Bashing, Original Character(s), Original Demigod Character(s( (Percy Jackson), Prophecies, Rick - Freeform, Rick why is your timeline a mess, Roman Percy Jackson, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 84,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACI100/pseuds/ACI100
Summary: AU: Ace Iverson thought his life was abnormal. Soon, his perspective will change drastically. What will happen when he stumbles into a mysterious world of myths, gods and monsters? Mostly OC Centric Series, Starts the Fall Prior To TLT, Eventual Roman Percy, No Needless Bashing
Comments: 14
Kudos: 19





	1. Future Aspirations

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
> **Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. You can do likewise to follow me on Twitter for live updates and to check out my official website.**
> 
> **If you enjoy my work and would like to read all of my chapters weeks/months early, as well as gain access to other, exclusive benefits, I have a P A T R E O N page, which can be used to support me directly. It can also be found on my profile.**
> 
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_**September 7, 2004**  
Elmdale Public School  
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada  
2:45 PM _

Ace Iverson, an eighth-grade student at Elmdale in Ottawa, had mostly enjoyed his first day of school. As his stepfather reminded him over and over again, it was his final year before high school. Or, as Thomas Ingles, his stepfather, called it — “real school.” According to him, things would be getting a lot more interesting for Ace next year.

Ace smiled vaguely with amusement, only half paying attention to Mrs. Marquardt’s lecture on the Indian Act and the lawful injustice of the bill. He knew all of this already. He was rather fond of history and he very much doubted that he would actually be learning anything from the class this year. More than likely, it would be a way for him to pad his grades.

Thinking of that just brought his mind back onto his earlier train of thought and his lips twitched once more. It annoyed his stepfather to no end that Ace could show up to school, put minimal effort into most of his classes, and come home with grades in the mid-to-high ninety percent range. Thomas had always been insistent that Ace put more effort into his schooling, but the boy in question had always shrugged off what he considered to be a wholly wasteful request.

It wasn’t like his average could get much higher no matter how much effort he put in. Besides, what would a two or three percent boost to an academic average in eighth grade mean in the grand scheme of things?

Whilst all of that was true, he knew that to some extent, it was simply his cover story. The reality of the situation was that he had aspirations far beyond being a high academic achiever, enrolling in a prestigious university program, and then eventually living what would hopefully be an extravagant, but likely mundane life slaving away over whatever intellectually centric job he’d decided to settle for.

None of that appealed to Ace.

From a very young age, he’d always said his dream was to be a professional hockey player in the National Hockey League. He had been exposed to the sport at a very young age. This was hardly a surprise when you looked at his family background. His stepfather was a die-hard fan of the Montreal Canadiens. 

Ace had taken a liking to the sport of hockey so long ago, he couldn’t even remember it. Thomas had always encouraged it. When he first began dating Ace’s mother, Angela, it was actually one of the things, according to Thomas, that allowed him to bond with the toddler. 

Ace’s grandfather on his mother’s side was rather entrenched in the sport as well. He had almost made the NHL himself. He very well might have had he not found himself in some legal trouble that eventually led him desperately into the arms of the Canadian military after many other options had been taken off the table in light of said troubles.. He had become an accomplished sniper out on the battlefields instead of on the ice, but his love of the game had never died.

By the time Ace was three-years-old, he was an adequate skater. That same year, he begged Thomas to bring him to the outdoor rink whenever he was able. His pestering eventually became so frequent that Thomas simply gave into Ace’s desires and built an outdoor rink of their own in the backyard. 

When he was finally old enough to join organized hockey the September before his fifth birthday, he was already miles ahead of the rest of his counterparts. Part of this, of course, was that he had dedicated a rather absurd amount of time to honing whatever abilities he could at that age. 

The summer after his first year in organized hockey, Ace had decided to take up soccer in the summers. He loved to run and was easily the fastest kid his age in the area. That made him a rather talented mid-fielder.

But nothing compared to the first sport he’d fallen in love with.

At the age of seven, he should have technically been playing against players nine years old and under. Instead, he was allowed a tryout for a rep team of those between the ages of nine and eleven. This was extremely rare. In specific cases, that honour might have been granted to a particularly exceptional eight-year-old. But even as a double-under-ager, he made the team with little drama. By the time he was nine years old, he was gaining notoriety all around the Canadian Province of Ontario for his early accomplishments.

Now, roughly four months short of his fourteenth birthday, Ace was more sure than ever he would one day be playing alongside some of his idols in the National Hockey League. 

This was the true reason Ace found himself rather unbothered by school.

How he managed to do so well in it in spite of that fact was a mystery that had always eluded him. Even his dyslexia hadn’t slowed him down much. It was a right pain, but he had learned to work through it with a lot of practice.

Thomas and Angela chalked it up to a number of things.

As Thomas put it, Ace had never been treated like a child. He had never been forced into anything, nor had his childhood been taken from him. But for as long as Ace could remember, they spoke to him as if he were an adult. This prompted a lot of questions in his early years, but he became a rather articulate speaker for his age very early in life.

The second thing was that hockey necessitated a large amount of travel. As a child, Ace had never been fond of car rides. He had a rather severe case of ADHD, so sitting still had always been an insurmountable task for him in the best of times. When it came to long, monotonous car rides, he’d needed something to keep him busy. He had turned to books. For as little attention as Ace paid in school, books were still something that had interested him. He fondly remembered reading the first Harry Potter book when it had released in nineteen-ninety-seven and immediately being completely in love with it.

The final thing Ace’s parents attributed his naturally high intelligence to was what Thomas thought had the most drastic impact. As a result of Ace playing on teams with kids much older than him from the age of seven, he had grown up fast. Indeed, most of his friends were currently aged between sixteen and eighteen, and were either high school sophomores, juniors or seniors. Years earlier, this had troubled Angela. When she realized that Ace was having no problem keeping up and that he was, for the most part, around a good group of friends, she had relented.

Ace had very few friends his own age. He just couldn’t level with them, no matter how hard he tried. Most weren’t mentally sharp enough to interest him. A great deal of them looked at him as if he were some sort of celebrity. This annoyed Ace more than anything else. 

The problem with being very publicly touted as a prodigy from the age of seven was that it altered the public perception of you greatly. This wasn’t so much of a problem when he hung around with the older crowd. Mostly because a large number of them had either played sports with him, or knew him through those who had. Even when this wasn’t the case, he didn’t often have to put up with misty stares from them. However talented and well-known he was, he was still several years younger than them. This naturally negated the mystique that his public reputation granted him and allowed these kids to actually treat him as a person, something that he was profoundly grateful for.

He really despised being looked at like he was some larger than life figure when all he was trying to do was make friends who were roughly his own age. Seriously, all he did was play a sport. It wasn’t like he’d been out there curing cancer or something suitably spectacular. That alone had discouraged the practice of making friends with his classmates, but there was more to it. A fair few of the kids his age were, instead of awed by him, envious. This was even worse because it just caused a great number of conflicts that he would rather have avoided.

It wasn’t that he tried to make trouble, per se. As he liked to put it, trouble just liked to create itself all around him. The worst trouble of all had probably been two years ago. It had been the only time he was expelled from a school, and Ace found the entire situation completely absurd.

How on earth could he have had anything to do with Jeff White’s fall? It was true that the two of them hadn’t gotten along. Jeff was a year older than Ace and had made it his mission during that year to, as Jeff had so eloquently put it, “show the little shit that he isn’t as great as everyone thinks he is.” 

That campaign had been forcefully ended one day when Jeff decided to hurl basketballs towards Ace from one of the highest tree branches on the school grounds. He would throw one, it would miss, and his friends would supply him with another. He never actually came close to hitting Ace with any of them. The smaller, more agile boy was far too quick for that. 

When the wind had mysteriously gusted hard enough to send one of the basketballs back into the bulkier boy’s face, sending him toppling from the tree branch he’d perched on, Ace had somehow been blamed.

He had no idea what he’d done to the teacher on patrol, but they had blatantly lied to the school’s principal about what happened. According to the teacher and eye-witness reports, it had been Ace who threw the basketball that had been the cause of Jeff White’s fall. That was completely ridiculous. Ace had spent the last three or four years prior to this getting blamed for all sorts of things he could never have actually done if he’d tried. By the time the confrontation had come with Jeff White, he’d learned long before not to do anything that he could be implicated for later.

Naturally, this hadn’t helped his case. Nor had the fact that, aside from a rather busted up face and badly bruised shoulder, Jeff was completely fine. 

The only silver lining Ace took from the whole thing was that he had been able to get the prick good on the last day of the year. He hadn’t started that fight either. On that occasion, he’d been jumped from behind and a fistfight had ensued. Unfortunately for the larger, older boy, Ace had started practicing martial arts a few years earlier when similar incidents had happened out of the blue. Oh, the joys of having a target on your back.

The day had not gone well for Jeff. Ace, having already been told he would not be invited back to that school the next year, hadn’t really suffered any repercussions from the altercation. His mother had been disappointed, which had been rather painful, but his stepfather had been indifferent. Ace had been taught from a very young age that self-defence was perfectly acceptable. He’d been warned just as vehemently that if it were he who started any such fights, he would be punished to hell and back.

He thought it was a rather fair policy.

There had been other, troublesome incidents over the years as well, but none quite as dramatic as that. He’d been suspended last year for supposedly rigging the light switch to electrocute Johnathan Ellerman; a boy who had been one of those who’d attempted to bully him quite ruthlessly. Seconds after one such incident, he had been asked to turn off the lights by their teacher, Mr. Hansen, who had been preparing to show them a presentation. When John made to dim the lights, he received a shock deemed too powerful to be natural.

How they had come to the conclusion that Ace had rigged the lights at thirteen to zap a fellow student, he would never know.

This year, he was hoping everything would go well. He had thankfully not been forced to move public schools after the prior incident. He would have been, but it wasn’t exactly something they could easily prove. Most of the staff now looked at him as if he were devil’s spawn, so there was unfortunately that. He was just thankful that his teacher this year, Mrs. Marquardt, actually seemed to like him.

Of course, it was still only the first day of school, even if it was set to conclude in a matter of seconds. Plenty could change between now and the end of June.

Right on cue, the final bell rang, prompting all of the students to slide their chairs back and scramble to their feet. Ace quickly gathered up his science textbook, his sheet of notes that had turned into the start of an original work of fiction once he’d become bored, his pencils, and his water bottle and quickly made to depart the room.

“Enjoy your evening, Ace,” the teacher said, as Ace was the first one to reach the classroom door.

“Same to you, Mrs. Marquartdt,” he replied politely, offering her a genuine smile before he stepped out into the hallway and made his way towards his locker. The unfortunate thing at the moment was that his locker was quite far away from his classroom. It was actually the closest one to the school’s main entrance. As inconvenient as it was at the moment, Ace was going to very much enjoy that designation each and every morning.

“Ace, wait up!” a voice called out from behind him. His memory had always been sharp, and he recognized the voice at once. He considered himself very firmly agnostic, but in that moment, he uttered a silent prayer to any deity that may or may not exist to grant him patience in this inevitably taxing endeavour. 

He reluctantly slowed his stride a bit so that Isabelle could catch up with him. Ace had no real problem with her, he just found her presence exhausting. She was one of the more popular girls in their year. She played basketball, volleyball, and ran track. Aside from hockey, and perhaps martial arts, track was by far Ace’s favourite sport, followed by cross country. He loved to run.

During this last year, track had been soured for him. He was convinced that the only reason Isabelle had signed up to run the 100 meter dash at all was because it put her in a training group with Ace, who had specialized in the 100, 200 and 400 metre sprints. The entire time, Ace had found her presence exhausting. She was polite. Overly so, even. That wasn’t the problem. The flirting was just so blatantly obvious, and it didn’t seem to matter how many times Ace hinted that he was completely uninterested. 

He enjoyed being single, if truth was to be told. It allowed him to wholeheartedly focus on his ambitions. He had tried dating, once. A blonde girl named Cassandra, who was two years older than him. That had lasted most of seventh grade. She had become upset because Ace wasn’t spending enough time with her. In her opinion, he spent too much time practicing, competing, or travelling. 

She just hadn’t understood.

And if she, an older and much more mature girl than the one who was currently tailing him hadn’t figured that part out, then Ace was fairly certain Isabelle wouldn’t either.

She fell into the multitude of people who just didn’t have what it took to actually interest Ace on any level. Ace felt as if he were sixteen trapped in an almost fourteen-year-old body. He just couldn’t relate to most of his classmates and peers his own age, Isabelle included.

It didn’t take long for her to catch up with him. She was a couple of inches shorter than he was and had rather delicate facial features, full pink lips, deep green eyes, and vivid red hair. 

“Hey, Isabelle.” He realized that this encounter would continue at least until he reached his locker — no matter what he did. He saw no reason to be a complete dick if it would get him nowhere. 

“Hey, Ace! How’d you find the first day?”

“It’s school. Nothing’s really changed. It seems like we have a decent teacher this year though, so there’s that.”

Isabelle nodded along. “Mrs. M does seem like a really good teacher. Better than Mr. Hansen, at least.”

“Definitely better than Hansen. I’m happy to be done with him.”

Isabelle nodded once more. “Are you going to Adriana’s party Friday night?”

“I doubt it. Cross country practice is that day, and I have boxing that night as well. Friday night is usually sparring, so that plus cross country will probably do me in for the night. I doubt I’ll want to do much after that. The team also plays its first preseason game on Saturday night. I’d rather not be out of it for that, if I’m being honest.” 

The part that he was leaving out was the fact that he wasn’t super interested in attending Adriana’s party in the first place. He already knew that Cadmus and Caleb, his two best friends and fellow members of his team were not attending. If they attended a party, he would sometimes tag along. Otherwise, he was rarely seen at such gatherings. 

“Come on, Ace! I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’ve won every cross country race you’ve entered for the last three years and you’re never even marked up after sparring! And it’s not like you have much to worry about in a pre-season game. Not that you have anything to worry about in general, but especially not in a pre-season game.”

This was exactly the kind of over-the-top flirting that Ace despised. “I’d rather not test that theory if it’s all the same to you.”

The pair of them had finally reached Ace’s locker. It was near both the main entrance to the school and the stairs that would lead up to the building’s second level. Thankfully for Ace, Isabelle’s locker was located somewhere in the middle of the second floor. It was a fact that he was immensely grateful for at the moment.

“You guys don’t have cross country tonight, do you?” Isabelle asked, gesturing to the downpour that was currently going on outside, seeming to try and drown everyone subjected to its wrath. Ace almost winced. That was not going to be fun to put up with as he made his way home. 

“We were supposed to, but… yeah.” He gestured vaguely towards the rain in the same way she had done moments prior. 

“Are you walking home in that?” she asked incredulously as Ace unlocked his lock and opened the door to his locker, beginning to pack his school things away.

“Yup,” he said with a sigh, draining the last of his water bottle before adding it to the top of the pile and zipping his bag closed before straightening up once more and slinging it over his back. “My parents are both working and I don’t qualify for a bus.”

“Why not? Don’t you live like… on the other side of the city?”

“It’s about six kilometres from the school, I think. My place falls in the bus zone for Ridgemont.” He grimaced. “That’s where I went before coming here.”

“Ah.” It was clear that Isabelle had no idea how to respond to that. 

“Well, nice talking to you, Isabelle, but I should really get home. I won’t want to do all of the intro crap for Marquartdt after practice tonight, so I should probably get that out of the way.”

That was a complete lie. He’d finished everything in class with no trouble at all, but she didn’t need to know that and he highly doubted she would call him out on it.

“Good luck!” She waved enthusiastically as she made off towards the stairs leading up to the second floor.

With a relieved exhale, Ace quickly slid through the crowd and out the doors. For the first few steps, the protruding ledge above the tall, glass entryway doors protected him from the rain. Then, it began to come down heavily upon him, like a hundred unrelenting, liquified bullets. He instantly became less sure of his decision to not wear the windbreaker that rested in his bag. He was planning to run home today in light of the cancelled cross country practice. If he wore the coat, it would surely be stuck to him and triple in weight within the first ten minutes just from absorbing the falling drops of water.

Resigned to an uncomfortable journey ahead, Ace tore out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk that would take him closer to home, headphones on and MP3 player blaring. He’d often wished music was allowed during cross country races. He felt as if he would have been able to sprint the whole course, if music was allowed. He loved music. When working out with it, it almost felt as if he were cheating.

About two kilometres in, Ace cut off of the sidewalk and ran into the woods, quickly merging onto a trail. This way was technically about a kilometre longer, but it was also much drier.

Some time later, Ace exited the forests and came back onto the sidewalk. Now, he was well away from what constituted as the "busy sector" of a fairly small suburb to a larger city. There was only one car on the road; a blacked out Mercedes Sprinter Van which seemed to be driving remarkably slow. Ace glanced over his shoulder. This felt very much like how somebody would get kidnapped. Not a moment later, the vehicle had sped back up and passed him by. Shrugging, he simply continued on his journey.

Until he rounded the next corner and saw that the van was pulled up on the sidewalk in front of him and that a man was getting out of the driver’s seat. He was just going to cut onto the grassy patch to his left to pass, but he faltered in mid-step, aghast at the sight before him.

This man, if it was indeed a man at all, had to be at least ten feet tall. He was almost twice as tall as Ace and easily twice as wide. Ace may have had a lithe sort of build, but he was very far from skinny. This figure made him look as if he were a small child. Ace vaguely registered that the… thing wore a large, ornate, golden chain. It actually looked comically small on him, but it would be large if worn by anyone else. 

Ace looked up into the scarred face that peered cruelly down at him and a sharp, sudden realization was made.

This could not possibly be a man.

Not only because of his vast height and bulk, but because there was only one eye staring back down at him. One dark brown eye that sat unnaturally in the centre of the figure’s forehead, like a single, coloured porthole on the rough face of a submarine.

‘Cyclops,’ was the only thing that Ace could think. 

It made absolutely no sense. 

After all, cyclopes were a thing of myth. He’d been quite fond of Greek mythology ever since studying its basics for a fourth-grade history project. By now, he’d read the _Iliad, Odyssey, Hesiod_ and several other Greek tomes. This man reminded him forcefully of what the Greeks had called a cyclops. He could not help but remember Odysseus’s clash with the monster Polyphemus in the _Odyssey._ This giant was smaller than the one Odysseus had tricked. Much smaller, even, but it was still the nearest comparable that he had.

He was forcefully broken from his thoughts a second later when a dinner plate-sized hand reached out to grab his arm. His initial impulse was to bat the giant hand away, but he quickly realized that meeting force with force would be a terrible idea. Ace quickly sprang back, pivoting as soon as his foot hit the ground so he was off centre from the hulking figure. If he wanted to grab him, he would have to turn to do so.

But Ace underestimated one thing.

For all of his practical experience sparring, he was used to gauging distance against those of a reasonable size. The leg that shot straight out towards him was far longer than any human limb could have ever been. He could have dodged it rather easily, but he’d been so concentrated on not getting grabbed and so pre-conditioned to feel safe at this distance that he didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.

The massive foot slammed hard into Ace’s chest like a battering ram and pain wracked his body. He was physically lifted off the ground and tossed through the air by the impact as if he were nothing more than a soccer ball which had just been struck by a well-aimed kick from a particularly talented striker. The thud of his body hitting the ground barely even registered with him. The first blow had sent a spasm of pain down his abdomen and had completely torn the air from his lungs. The second impact did the exact same, but his body had not yet recovered enough from the first to register anything more.

Ace’s brain was screaming at him to get up, but his body wouldn’t comply. He was fairly confident that he’d suffered no serious damage in the last three-or-so seconds, but he also knew all too well that wasn’t the problem. This had happened in sparring on occasion, usually from punches or kicks to either the liver or the solar plexus. The human body was just not conditioned to take punishment to that area. And it was certainly not conditioned to work optimally whilst being forcefully deprived of oxygen. 

The huge… thing had bent over and grabbed him, and Ace suddenly felt weightless as he was easily lifted into the air, held firmly in place by one arm as the other, massive hand grabbed his head. He was pretty sure the thing was going to snap his neck, his spine, or both. Or possibly slam him so hard into the ground that it would be the end of him.

Just as Ace was sure the thing had decided on the latter, he felt weightless for a second time. Then, a large flash, and, confusingly, he slammed hard into the ground once more, dazed yet again. He was just coherent enough to realize that whatever had just happened, the cyclops-esque thing had certainly not piledriven him to death.

As the thought of the cyclops registered, Ace dazedly managed to sit up, at which point he came to several jarring revelations.

The first was that the cyclops was nowhere to be seen. He might have actually thought he’d hallucinated the whole thing if not for the fact that one, he had never taken any hallucinogenic drugs in his life. And two, because there was one, small remnant of the beast which had attacked him.

The large, ostentatious chain the thing had worn rested unmoving on the ground, exactly where the monster had stood not seconds earlier.

Ace’s next revelation was that he was missing his right shoe and that his sock was charred and burnt.

Then, the dots all came together.

They had been struck by lightning! Actually struck by lightning. Right as imminent death had fast approached, its loving embrace reaching out to him as if he were a child in need of physical comfort. Before the arms of the reaper could entangle him, he’d been forcefully torn from its clutches by Fate, or whatever the hell controlled out of this world occurrences like the one that had just happened. It was as if this was something out of a fiction novel or an overdramatized television program. Ace wouldn’t have believed it if he’d seen it on Television, but it was the only logical conclusion his brain could come to.

Okay, that wasn’t right. 

Nothing about being struck by a fucking lightning bolt was logical. It was the most contextually logical thing his brain could come up with was a more accurate statement. 

How the lightning had completely dissipated his attacker, he had no idea.

Hesitatingly, Ace picked up the chain and draped it over his own neck. It was heavy, but naturally so. It had been comically short on the cyclops, but it fit Ace rather well. It looked expensive, and he suspected that the cyclops had stolen it off of a victim who hadn’t quite been as lucky as him. 

He decided at that moment to keep the chain.

It could serve as a memoir to whomever had died wearing it. 

Oh, and a reminder to Ace that he probably wasn’t going insane. That might be needed if he reminisced on this event in the future.

Out of all the crazy, unnatural things that had happened to him over the years, this one absolutely took the cake.

Ace sighed as he made his way towards his shoe, which had been forcefully blasted about twenty feet away from him. It seemed as if all hopes of a normal year at school had been dashed in the most dramatic way possible.

‘Like, seriously,’ Ace thought as he bent down, ‘I didn’t even make it a day!’

_**Some time later, in the depths of the Underworld…** _

Far beneath the mundane world, another realm was situated. In many ways, the Underworld was considered to be the world beyond death. Death was the metaphorical bridge between Erebus and the world that we all know.

But in some other ways, it was the Underworld that served as the bridge. 

Or perhaps, the barrier would be more apt.

Many men, women and children fear death above all else. They fear the uncertainty. They have no idea what will come after death, and even if they knew where the reaper would lovingly guide them, they would likely fear it. To not exist in the way you have become accustomed to existing is a natural thing for humans to fear.

Yet there are things worse than death. Things worse than the Underworld. Things tucked away in the darkest, most desolate corners of the Earth in hopes their evil may never seep into the reality which we have sought to keep stable for so many millennia.

One of these corners was located in the depths of Erebus, hidden away thoroughly enough so that not even the dead would stumble upon it.

In a dark, deserted cave situated somewhere off of the Fields of Asphodel, an open, endless pit stretched wide as if to engulf everything, to consume it with destructive malevolence. If one managed to fend off the irrational panic that accompanied getting close to such a place and looked down, they would think the black, all-consuming hole was endless, and that the drop one would experience if dragged into the abyss would be ever-lasting.

They would be wrong.

At the bottom of that pit was a place far worse than Erebus. A place that made the fear felt by its entrance akin to a firecracker compared to a nuclear warhead.

This was a place so inherently evil that Erebus itself had to serve as a buffer between it and the mortal world.

Many things lurked within the depths of this unspeakable place. Things that would haunt the nightmares of children, and other things that would drive stable adults to insanity. Some things were just cruel, powerful, and quintessentially evil. Other things, if they ever saw the light of the world, would cause cataclysmic problems.

And other things, if they ever escaped the clutches of Tartarus, would serve as a threat to reality itself.

Something was stirring deep within this infernal place. 

It fell into the latter category of beings. Its obsidious nature was such that even standing in Erebus, peering down into the pit of damnation, one would feel the shift in the world. They would feel how all hope seemed to be sucked towards the pit, as if the very emotion was a helpless star being vacuumed into a black hole. They would feel the temperature in the cave drop just from such an evil being taking its first breath in several centuries.

But most of all, they would know two things.

Something immensely powerful was waking, and this seemingly simple event had the potential to change the world forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is a long AN, but it should be way longer. Most ANs will be very short, but this always happens at the end of opening chapters for me. If you would like to learn more about this story and get some insights into future ideas, characters, plans and formats, I encourage you to check out the blog post titled “Fabric of Fate Release Blog” on my official website. The link was listed in the pre-chapter notes, but it will be at the bottom of these notes, too.**
> 
> **I would ask you to not judge this fic too harshly based off of this chapter. The first scene was very slow, but I needed to use it as a character intro, of sorts. Next chapter will be more indicative as to how the story will typically read.**
> 
> **If you can’t tell already, this will mostly be an OC centric story. Percy,  
>  Annabeth, and others will have major roles- though Percy is Roman in this fic- but they are not technically the main protagonists. It is also worth noting that all canon characters of relevance have been aged up by one year. Mainly because I wanted a slightly older protagonist, and I wanted Percy and Annabeth to match his age. This will not affect the prophecy, as the wording has been changed.**
> 
> **Oh, and all of the events up until the end of Blood of Olympus will be posted under this story. Just to let you know what you’re getting into, this will likely total at over a million words one day.**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editors Asmodeus Stahl and Athena Hope for their corrections/contributions this week!**
> 
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	2. Cato Hates California

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
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__**November 10, 2004  
Los Angeles, California, USA  
2:53 PM**

To put it simply, Cato Anders hated California. To elaborate, Cato really hated California. 

There were a vast number of places he would have rather been at the moment. Being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic in the middle of Los Angeles wasn’t the way he would willingly choose to spend any ordinary day. Cato hated traffic. He hated people who were more focused on pleasing those around them than they were about being decent human beings. To Cato, people who were more focused on how they looked as opposed to how they acted were people who he just had no desire to give the time of day.

Needless to say, California was not a place Cato was at all fond of.

At least in Georgia, where he’d spent the first few years of his life, and in Tennessee, where he’d spent the rest, people would tell you bluntly how it was. In LA, Cato was forever worried that he was going to be stabbed in the back at any moment. Granted, he did have a tendency to overthink things. 

Actually, that might’ve been an exaggeration. Cato had a tendency to drastically overthink things. Some people might have called that a weakness, but it had almost always served Cato well. 

It was what had earned him the title of “child prodigy” at a young age, allowed him to graduate from high school four years earlier than normal, and allowed him to earn both his associate’s and bachelor’s degrees in Greek history. Seeing as Cato was currently only eighteen years of age, he considered that to be his proudest accomplishment to date. 

Overthinking things was- along with his natural curiosity, obsessive habits, and frankly superhuman abilities to process data- what had directly led to most of what Cato considered to be the major accomplishments in his still young life. 

It was also what had taken him to this god-forsaken city when he would have rather been just about anywhere else on the planet.

Hell, as a connoisseur of Greek history and ancient mythology, Cato would take a good and honest trip to Erebus any day. At least in the realm of the mythological god of the Underworld, he knew all too well that he was walking into a death trap.

Cato very much doubted he would be taking up residence in California any time soon, but the proposal on the table was too generous to turn down. At least without very careful consideration. For the past four years, Cato had been working towards his PhD in Greek history at an accelerated rate. He currently studied at the University of Georgia, but UCLA had made him an offer he at least had to consider.

They were willing to offer Cato a more rapid path to earning his PhD, and even wanted him to become an associate professor on the topic. Many of the professors had read the reports he had written up on the subject, and it was unanimously decided that he was miles ahead of what his qualifications might show. If not for the lack of those qualifications, he would have promptly been offered a teaching position.

The prospect of rapidly accelerating his education on a full-ride scholarship, plus the opportunity to earn a rather generous sum of money whilst doing something he loved was quite an alluring option for Cato.

Unfortunately, accepting that offer required him to live in California.

The idiot in front of him who was currently braking harder than necessary any time he had the opportunity was a perfect example of exactly why Cato hated the state. He could see the campus now. It was looming not far in the distance. If not for the traffic, it would only take him several minutes to reach his destination. At that point, Cato would have to make a difficult decision.

It was very true that he wanted nothing to do with the state of California, but he was also an ambitious man at heart. That had always been the case, ever since he was very young. 

When his father died as a result of a tragic mishap during his liver transplant just days after Cato’s high school graduation, he had only become more determined to make something of himself. His mother and father had broken up very soon after he’d been born, and he had never met the woman. Aside from a couple aunts and uncles who he was not overly close with, Cato didn’t have many people to rely on. Worse still, one could imagine how difficult it was for somebody so much younger than the rest of their peers to make friends in college, regardless of how brilliant the younger student might have been. 

Cato was determined to make something of himself. To prove to himself that he didn’t need anybody. More importantly, he wanted to prove that those who had looked down on him were wrong. Those older students who sneered down their noses at him in spite of his academic prowess. Those kids who had bullied him years and years ago for being studious. Even his mother, for leaving him. He didn’t hold true disdain for her, whoever she was, but the thought of proving her wrong was one that appealed to him greatly. His father had assured him countless times that, despite her absence in Cato’s life, the two of them had split up on favourable terms.

Yet none of that meant Cato couldn’t use her as a catalyst for his ambition.

He wondered what his father would think right now. He thought the man would be over the moon if Cato took the offering by UCLA. He had always wanted the best for his son. As ambitious as Cato had been, his father had always pushed him further. He was the one who had comforted him all those years ago when he was picked on for his intelligence. And it had been he who had told Cato that the best way to feel better was to prove all of those kids wrong and outshine the lot of them.

Yet above all else, Steve Anders, Cato’s father, had wanted his son to be happy. Any choice Cato made, his father wanted to be sure that it was not only the choice which would further him in life, but the choice which would allow him to enjoy the process of living every step of the way. As Steve had put it, “Money and success don’t buy happiness. They only rent it.” 

Cato knew those words to be true. The immediate high brought on by the achievement of a goal was certainly euphoric, but it was also short-lived in most cases. 

True happiness had to be acquired by making choices that you wouldn’t regret at a later date. Choices that checked off your own personal boxes which quantified to you what happiness truly was.

As Cato slowly pulled his 1989 Chevrolet S10 onto the UCLA campus, he shook his head minutely. One of the only things that interested him nearly as much as history was philosophy. When considering this, it was no real surprise that he had a rather bad habit of falling into deep, philosophical thoughts. Oftentimes, it would lead him to major breakthroughs. On occasions like this, when a clear mind with a singular focus was required, it was unfortunately less productive. 

Cato’s journey didn’t get much easier once he had pulled onto the school’s campus. Finding parking was very near impossible at the moment, and it wasn’t until almost an hour later that a rather relieved yet mildly irritated Cato stepped out of his lowered truck and pulled a map from his bag. Scanning the overview of the campus, he nodded once, stuffed the map back into his bag and began to make off in the direction he had to follow.

He’d been told to see a Mrs. Karen Digicento at the front desk. The problem was going to be finding that specific desk on this campus. It was massive, unnecessarily ostentatious, and overly complicated.

So just like the rest of California, Cato thought.

It took him a significant amount of time to find the proper building. When he finally did, there was thankfully no line inside. Not surprising, seeing as the students here would be in classes right now. Hell, he should technically be in classes right now.

“Can I help you, sir?” the brunette asked from behind the desk, looking up from a frankly absurd number of papers.

“Yeah,” said Cato. His voice was accented enough that one could tell he was from the southern United States. The accent wasn’t heavy, but it was there. “I was told to see a Mrs. Digicento about an appointment I had booked. Are you the person I’m looking for?”

“Yes, sir,” the woman answered, neatly turning to a computer on her desk and beginning to type at top speed. “What’s your name?”

“Cato Anders, ma’am.”

After a minute or so of typing, Karen nodded. “You’re here for a special meeting with our Director of Education, Mr. Morris?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Karen nodded once more, standing promptly from her spot behind her desk. “If you’ll follow me, Mister Anders, I’ll take you to him now.” Cato followed her from the room and through a maze of hallways which he once more considered to be needlessly complex.

“So what brings you here, Mister Anders?” Karen was clearly trying to make casual conversation. “You look about school age, if you don’t mind me saying, and it’s a rather odd time to meet with schools, seeing as the semester started a couple of months ago.”

“I was asked to come here and meet with Mr. Morris. I was offered a scholarship and a staffing position to switch schools.”

Karen blinked and stiffened. “A staffing position? How old are you exactly?”

“Eighteen, ma’am.”

“And you were offered a staffing position?”

“Yes, ma’am. Assistant Professor of Greek History. I already have my associate’s and bachelor’s degrees. I’m working towards my PhD.”

“You’re a bit young to have those, no?”

“I graduated high school four years early. I was part of an accelerated learning program. Apparently, Mr. Morris thought some of the papers I’ve written on Greek history were interesting.”

“It’s a great school,” Karen promised. “I’m sure you’d feel right at home.” Cato very much doubted that, but he chose not to voice that thought aloud. 

After a time, the two of them reached a well-polished door. Karen told Cato to wait outside while she herself entered to check if Mr. Morris was ready to receive his guest. About two minutes later, Karen exited the office and told him that he was all set, wishing him well before making her way back the way they had come.

Cato found himself completely free of nerves as he stepped into the large, bright, well-furnished office of Mr. Morris. The man himself was seated behind a polished, mahogany desk. He was clearly very old, appearing to be in his sixties at least. He still had a full head of hair, though by now, it was white; the same shade as snow. The same went for his eyebrows. He was tanned and thin, but had the look of a man who had at one time been athletic. Cato suspected that was a long time ago.

“Mister Anders,” greeted the UCLA Director of Education. His voice was a bit higher than Cato had expected, but he spoke very clearly. It was immediately evident to Cato that in spite of this man’s age, he was still admirably sharp.

“Yes, sir.” Cato took the seat already laid out for him across from Mr. Morris as he answered politely. “Thanks for inviting me here, sir.”

“Thank you for coming, Mister Anders. I wasn’t sure if you would, considering the fairly short notice and the long drive. I appreciate you making the trip down to California. I hope your drive was pleasant?”

Cato internally winced as he remembered the dickhead who had been in front of him for miles, slamming the brakes hard every chance he seemed to get. “It was alright,” he answered diplomatically. “A bit long, but not bad.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Mr. Morris said with what appeared to be a genuine smile. “Well, Cato, to business then.”

The two of them spoke for a little over an hour. Perpetually curious, Cato had a fair number of questions for the esteemed man sitting in front of him. For his part, Mr. Morris succinctly and satisfactorily answered every question Cato asked. It appeared to Cato as if the man really did want him at UCLA. And to his credit, he seemed to be doing his utmost best to get him to stay.

By the time their meeting had concluded, Cato had to grudgingly concede that the proposition laid out would be hard to turn down. He had a hotel booked in Los Angeles for the next few days, and he was planning to mull the offer over in detail before he committed one way or another.

It was as if Mr. Morris could read his thoughts, for he smiled benignly at Cato. “I don’t expect an answer today, Mister Anders. I actually encourage you not to give me one. As much as I would love to have you as a part of our institution, I also value the mental health of every member of my staff. I want to make sure you’re making the right decision for yourself as well as us. I’ll need an answer in the next week or so, but don’t feel any rush to give one any sooner. 

“Before you leave today, I thought it was a good idea to introduce you to our Lead Professor of Greek History. Of course, he’s who you would be working most closely with, and he’s eager to meet you.” Mr. Morris coughed delicately. “If you have the time, of course.”

“Yeah, I’ve got time.” With a smile, Mr. Morris stood up from his chair and beckoned for Cato to follow him. He moved surprisingly well for one his age, and Cato found himself once more being led through the labyrinth of hallways that seemed to comprise the complex he currently occupied. He and Mr. Morris spoke less than he and Karen had done earlier. Cato liked him. He was kind but all business. Moreover, he made no attempt to hide that fact, which was something Cato was particularly appreciative of.

The door which evidently led to the primary history professor’s office was one of rich, dark oak. Mr. Morris knocked sharply on the door and scarcely twenty seconds later, it opened. 

Standing in its entrance was a tall man who looked very stern. To Cato, he appeared the type of man who one would want to avoid crossing. He was tall and pale, with a hawkish face and black hair. His most striking feature was definitely the odd, irregularity that were his eyes. One of them was a dark blue whilst the other was a deep brown colour. 

“Professor Thorne,” Mr. Morris greeted with a stiff nod. “This is Cato Anders, the prospective transfer student I told you about a few weeks ago.”

Thorne’s dark, mismatched eyes roamed over Cato and he felt an odd prickle on the back of his neck. It felt as if he was being x-rayed. Those eyes seemed to be studying him on a level far deeper than human vision was capable of.

“Of course.” Cato noticed that Thorne’s voice was accented. He wasn’t terribly familiar with French, since he’d never been much exposed to it in his life. Still, he was reasonably certain that’s what the accent was. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Anders. I am Professor Thorne. I teach Greek ‘istory at zis institution.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Something about Thorne put him on edge. His movements seemed almost too deliberate, his words too measured. He played his role well, but Cato had a hard time believing that everything he was doing was perfectly genuine. 

“Well, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Mr. Morris decided. “Professor Thorne, you’ll have no problem showing Cato out once you’re meeting is over?”

“Of course not, Mr. Morris. I’ll make sure ‘e finds ‘is way out.”

“Excellent. Cato, if you have any questions you want to ask after today to help you make a more informed decision, you can phone or email me at any time. You should have both of them from our earlier discussions.”

“Yup, I’ve got ‘em. Thanks for everything, Mr. Morris. I’ll be in touch.” The white-haired Education Director stepped back and closed the door, leaving Cato alone in the room with the man who was set to become his new boss. Assuming, of course, that he took the offered position.

“Care for some tea, Mister Anders?” 

“I’m alright, sir. But thank you.”

With a curt nod, Thorne took a seat behind his desk, gesturing for Cato to do likewise in the chair across from him. “You are quite young, non?” asked Thorne.

“Eighteen, yeah.”

“Do you ‘ave any practical experience teaching?”

“I’ve worked as a tutor for about five years now, but that’s it.”

“What subjects ‘ave you tutored for?”

“History, philosophy, science and math. The last one isn’t really my strength though.”

“Fortunately, we ‘ave little use for math in our field of study. Tell me, Cato, ‘ow is it you came to be interested in Greek ‘istory?”

Cato shrugged. “My dad had a bunch of books lying around. Let’s just say you don’t want me to be bored.”

Thorne’s lips twitched. “Naturally.”

“I was four when I picked up the Iliad. Read it and the Odyssey back to back. Read Herodotus about a year later. Just kinda spiralled from there.”

“So your father was interested in Greek ‘istory as well?”

“Yup. We’d always talk about it after I read something new.”

For some reason, Thorne’s eyes seemed to narrow when Cato said that. Perhaps he had imagined it. It was possible, but for some reason, he didn’t think that to be the case. 

“So you’ve studied it ever since?”

“Yup; history and languages have always kinda been my hobbies. Like I said, stuff happens when I get bored.”

The man studied him. “Who was Leonidas’s and Cleomenes’s father?”

Cato smirked. “That’s a trick question, sir.”

“‘ow so?”

“Leonidas’s father was Anaxandridas. Thing is, he seceded Cleomenes, so technically, they’re not formally recognized as father and son.”

Thorne’s face didn’t change. “‘ow was ‘elen born?”

“From an egg her mother, Leda, laid after sleeping with a swan.”

“‘ow did ze city of Delphi get its name?”

“Because Apollo saved a ship in the form of a dolphin. The ship got to shore and the passengers founded Delphi. They called it that after his dolphin form.”

This time, Thorne’s eye twitched. For one reason or another, Cato felt as if the man sat in front of him was becoming agitated. His accent had become thicker and more pronounced over the course of his interrogation. 

“You said anozer ‘obby of yours is learning languages?”

“Yes, sir. Mostly ancient ones.”

Thorne slid open a drawer and pulled a heaping stack of paper from it. “You know Ancient Greek, I take it?”

“Yep.”

“Which dialects are you familiar with?”

“All forms of Aeolic, Doric, Ionic, Attic, Koine, Mycenaean and Arcadocypriot, with all sub-variants.”

Thorne blinked several times as Cato reeled all of that off casually and without preamble. He had to sort through his stack of papers for quite some time before he thrust one under Cato’s face.

“What does zat say, Mister Anders?”

Cato leaned down and studied it. 

_ζάω ὅλως δαπάνη_

It appeared to be a fairly basic, later form of Doric blended a bit with Koine. “The rough translation is exist or live at all costs.”

Thorne nodded stiffly. Reaching into his pile once more, he withdrew yet another sheet. “And this one?”

Cato frowned, it was a dialect he wasn’t intimately familiar with. Yet, after looking at it for a few seconds, it clicked in his brain. “Rough translation is that the deception is over.”

Thorne smiled coldly. “Indeed it is, Mister Anders. Do you know which dialect that was written in?”

“No, sir.” 

“That, Mister Anders, was Macedonian. Conveniently, you seemed to believe you didn’t know of zat dialect.”

Cato blinked. “I… don’t.”

“Oh, I do not zink you were lying, Mister Anders. No, it all makes perfect sense to me. It confirms what I ‘ave suspected about you for some time. Unfortunately, it means you won’t be getting ze job.” 

Cato knew something terrible was about to happen seconds before all hell broke loose. On instinct alone, he threw himself to the left and out of the chair he’d just occupied. It was fortunate he had, for almost as soon as he had abandoned it, long spikes dripping with a greenish substance impacted hard against the backrest, directly where his chest had been. 

Cato, a man of about six-feet tall with a fairly average build, didn’t appear to be the most athletic man around. Yet in this instance, he moved deceptively fast, scrambling to his feet instantly and only just avoiding a second volley of spikes. When he did get to his feet, he could hardly believe the sight that was taking place right in front of him. 

Thorne’s face was still unmistakably human, but the rest of him had morphed right in front of Cato’s eyes. His body now resembled a lion’s more closely than it did a human’s and he had a long, spiked tail that would be impossible to miss.

Holy shit, Cato thought to himself dumbly. It’s a fucking manticore!

Cato’s first impulse was to reach for a concealed weapon. He was, after all, a southerner at heart. In his humble opinion, weapons should be carried at all times by those who knew how to use them. Then, he remembered exactly which state he was in and how strict their gun laws were and cursed internally.

‘Holy fuck, I really hate California!’

Seeing as a gun wasn’t an option, Cato reached for the nearest available weapon without hesitation. Best to strike now, whilst the manticore was evidently still distracted by its transformation. 

It turned out that the nearest available weapon just so happened to be the chair that Cato had been sitting in just seconds before. With a grunt, he lifted the chair, hefted it above his head, and hurled it forcefully towards the manticore. The beast seemed too surprised to swat it away, so it had to lunge out of danger at the last possible second. The chair didn’t make an impact with the thing’s head as Cato had planned.

That was the bad news.

The good news was that a large, floor to ceiling window was situated behind Thorne’s desk. Since the manticore had moved, Cato had thrown the chair straight through that window, and the large hole it had created was exactly what Cato dove through before the manticore could so much as move. He heard the thing snarl in righteous indignation and fury once he was outside and he knew at once that the chase was very far from over.

Cato had no idea where he was going, he just knew that he had to get away from the building. He sprinted through the campus, looking for the parking lot which he had pulled into over an hour ago now. The manticore was on his tail. Thankfully, Cato was more agile than the beast behind him. What seemed odd was that the people on campus didn’t appear to notice what was going on. They obviously noticed something, but their reactions certainly weren’t dramatic enough for the situation at hand.

Cato weaved in and out of buildings, ducked behind trees and switched directions. Several times, the manticore just smashed his way through whatever Cato had used as a barrier. By the time Cato seemed to have lost the beast and wound up in an open field near the forests, he was both panting and reflecting on the amount of property damage he had indirectly been a part of. 

Idly, he noticed how many birds were loudly squawking as they flew overhead.

He paid them no mind as he looked around frantically, doing his best to spot the path back to the parking lot. He didn’t look up, but he could hear the cries of the birds getting louder and louder and his pulse quickened. At this rate, they would lead the manticore straight to him in a matter of moments.

At that exact moment, three things happened at once.

The first of them was that Cato spotted a sign that seemed to mercifully be pointing him towards the parking lot he needed to find. The second of them was that with a mighty, vengeful cry, the manticore rocketed out of the forest behind him, snarling animalistically as it barreled towards Cato. 

The third thing was what surprised Cato the most.

The birds swarmed him.

Cato quickly realized that these vicious little bastards weren’t normal birds at all. It became obvious when the devils started shooting their feathers at him as if they were arrows. His mind roamed over all the Greek myths he knew. As implausible as it may have been for mythological monsters to come to life, he was facing a manticore, so why not? If he wasn’t so in-tune with his mind, Cato might have thought he was dreaming.

But he knew better, and he knew exactly what these creatures were. Stymphalian birds; the sixth labour of Heracles. Not even he had been able to best them with brute force. The legendary hero had been forced to use brass bells given to him by Athena to force them to retreat before he’d been able to force them off.

Sighing, Cato thought to himself that this whole thing would really be so much easier if he wasn’t in California. It would be so much more convenient to just shoot them out of the sky.

With that not being an option, he was forced to take off running once more. By now, he was positively exhausted and taking deep, heavy breaths. He wasn’t out of shape, but he wasn’t in shape either. He was soundly average. Thankfully, adrenaline seemed to be dragging him along. 

Moments later, Cato actually thanked whatever higher powers may exist that he was in California. As much as it pained him, he wasn’t sure where else he would just find a group of college students clowning around at the side of a large pool, blaring rock music at an ear-piercing volume in the middle of the afternoon. And better still, the devil birds had decided to attack Thorne, which had effectively slowed both of them down and allowed Cato to put some distance between himself and them.

Unfortunately, both the manticore and the birds could move far faster than he could. This meant that by the time he neared the pool, both of them were hot on his heels. 

Mercifully, the loud, blaring rock music seemed to do the trick. Just when the stymphalian birds neared the pool, they all began to squawk in protest before, one by one, they turned and began to fly away. Cato glanced over his shoulder. The manticore was bearing down upon him, but there were now several gashes leaking blood all over the thing’s body.

The joys of celestial bronze beaks. 

Cato brought his eyes back in front of him just in time. Without hesitation, he dove to the side, narrowly avoiding near disaster.

Less than a second later, a large, burly boy in his early twenties who had been running from his friend and almost hit Cato barreled into Thorne, sending them both crashing into the pool with a resounding splash. Despite the gravity of the situation at hand, as well as the fact that he had nearly died on a number of occasions in the last ten minutes, Cato actually laughed.

Something was clearly preventing these students from seeing the manticore for what he truly was. He was hardly complaining. Not only had that pool tackle been absolutely hysterical, but it may very well have saved his life. At the very least, it provided a much-needed opening that Cato greedily seized, sprinting towards the parking lot at top speed.

Another splash from behind him was accompanied by a fierce, feral roar that indicated to Cato that Thorne had already extricated himself from the pool and was back on the hunt. 

But surely, Cato was already free. He was already in the parking lot, which was swarming with traffic by the time the manticore began to catch up with him. He could see his truck. Surely, by now, he was free…

That was what he thought up until the manticore leapt impossibly high, leapfrogging straight over Cato and landing directly between him and his Chevy S10. 

The thing smiled predatorily at him, and he was sure for the first time that day that he was about to die.

That was until, with a panicked blast of its horn, a full-sized bus slammed into the manticore, evidently travelling too fast to slow down.

To Cato’s confusion, the bus didn’t even stop after running over Thorne. Clearly, these people really were blinded to the beast in one way or another. 

But he hardly cared. 

In an odd, fantasy-like way, Cato had watched the manticore crumble into golden duets as soon as the bus had run it over.

Now, without the pursuing monster, Cato found the relative silence around him quite deafening. With a shake of his head and several blinks of his eyes, Cato began to dazedly stroll towards his truck with a single thought replaying in his mind.

He really hated California, and would sure as hell not be taking the offered job at UCLA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I always hate the first chapter of any of my fics, so chapter 1 was sort of a wash for me. Thankfully, I am actually quite happy with how this one turned out, so I hope you all enjoy it.**
> 
> **It’s nice to introduce Cato. I have a feeling he will be a fan favourite. It should also be noted that I do not endorse his views on California or gun laws. It is used primarily for comedic relief. I have visited there only once and enjoyed myself quite a bit. Just know that my characters’ views don’t always reflect my personal opinions.**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editors Asmodeus Stahl and Athena Hope for their corrections/contributions this week.**
> 
> **PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, November 22nd, 2020.**


	3. Ace’s Empousai Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
> **Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. You can do likewise to follow me on Twitter for live updates and to check out my official website.**
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> **If you enjoy my work and would like to read all of my chapters weeks/months early, as well as gain access to other, exclusive benefits, I have a P A T R E O N page, which can be used to support me directly. It can also be found on my profile.**
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_**November 11, 2004  
Somewhere Above the Western United States  
11:01 AM** _

On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, all members of Ace’s hockey team, as well as most other passengers onboard the aircraft gliding some thirty-thousand feet above the United States, took a moment of silence. 

It was a mixed bunch onboard the flight from Toronto to Los Angeles but as one would expect, many of the people onboard were either American or Canadian. For the Americans onboard, that symbolic moment in time was one they took to celebrate Memorial Day and those brave men and women who had died for the nation’s freedom over the decades and centuries past. For Ace and the other Canadians onboard, they took the time to do the same, but for their Canadian counterparts — if one wanted to be technical, they were celebrating what Canada referred to as Remembrance Day.

Ace was grateful for the moment of silence. He was currently just barely staying awake. His best friend and teammate, Caleb Robinson, had been asleep beside him for quite some time before Ace had woken him up to partake in the moment of silence. It wasn’t that Ace was bored. He had been nose-deep in his copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire ever since Caleb had fallen asleep. He’d read the book so many times now, he could no longer count, but it didn’t detract from his enjoyment of the book, nor the world-famous series it was a part of.

His eyes felt extremely heavy and as much as he enjoyed the book, Ace doubted it would keep him awake for a whole lot longer. Caleb, on the other hand, might be able to manage that seemingly insurmountable feat.

“How long have I been out?” Caleb asked as he stretched his long arms and legs as far as the confined seating would allow.

Ace shrugged. “Few hours, maybe? Can’t honestly say I’ve paid much attention.”

“Terrible human being for it, too.”

“I think I’m a decent person when I want to be.”

“Maybe, but you sure look like hell,” his friend observed with a smirk.

That was probably true. The team had been awake since about 4:00 that morning. They had needed to catch a flight at 7:00 from Toronto and unlike Caleb, Ace hadn’t managed any sleep on the plane; not that he hadn’t tried, mind you. ADHD was a pain in the ass. Among other things, it meant that sitting still was damn near impossible for him. 

This didn’t blend particularly well with the confined nature of airplanes. Ace always loved planes, for the most part. The view was marvellous and the feeling of takeoff was up there among his favourite sensations in the world. Yet sleeping on them wasn’t fun. He didn’t do confined areas super well. Not being able to move was something he was distinctly not fond of.

He tried to roll his eyes, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the yawn the younger boy had to hide behind his hand. Seeing as he was thirteen and playing on a team of those between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, Ace was the youngest one there. Still, Caleb was his best friend, and Ace always hung out with his group of friends when able, so dry, sarcastic jabs exchanged between the two of them was hardly a rarity. 

“Thanks buddy. I always appreciate your never-ending support.”

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for.”

“That and to pass me the puck, I guess.”

Now, it was Caleb’s turn to roll his eyes. “I’d put you through the boards in practice tonight if we didn’t have a tournament to win this weekend.”

“Correction, you would try and fail to do that, making yourself look like a complete idiot along the way.” Ace paused to consider that statement. “Make yourself look like a bigger idiot, that is,” he amended.

“So sorry some of us have lives. I’m perfectly happy chilling with my girl and enjoying life while you’re freezing your ass off in the rink. Who’s really winning here?”

“Ask me that question again in ten years.”

“Ah, but I’ll be playing with you in the league in ten years. You just make me look good enough to get drafted, and we’ll go from there.”

Ace raised an eyebrow. “And why would I do that?”

“Because that way we can both retire nice and early and just enjoy life after that.” Caleb smiled an enigmatic smile. “And so I can keep you entertained, of course.”

Ace nodded slowly, seeming to ponder the thought. “Good enough reason, I suppose.”

As they flew ever closer to their final destination, Los Angeles International Airport, Ace alternated between keeping up a casual flow of conversation with Caleb and thinking about the upcoming tournament that would begin in less than thirty-six hours’ time.

It wasn’t the first time Ace had played in a tournament similar to this one. Granted, he had never played in this exact tournament. This was his first year in midget hockey, after all, even though he technically should have only been playing bantam. He knew how these tournaments went, but he always enjoyed them. Not just for the game itself, but for the opportunity to travel. He’d never done much of it as a kid, and he was a naturally curious person. That and his enjoyment of things pertaining to history made him a natural traveller.

Oh, and the fact that the team usually got up to all kinds of amusing things they weren’t supposed to. That didn’t hurt, either.

There was an annual tournament in Rochester later in the year. Last year, they had gotten up to all sorts of things. The coaches mercifully hadn’t found out. Ace practically shivered at the thought. He actually thought his stepfather might have been amused if he knew, but Terry, his coach, most certainly would not have been.

Ace wasn’t sure if the expression “hard ass” was in the Urban Dictionary but if it was, he thought that a picture of his coach should be prominently displayed alongside it. The man was brilliant at his job, but he was brutal to play for on a good day. If you got on his bad side or, God forbid, caught him on a bad day…

Well, it was better left unsaid.

Ace wondered what antics they would get up to in Los Angeles. He had played in New York a great number of times, as well as in Boston and Michigan, but California was new to him. Some of the older members of the team had been here for this annual tournament before, and Ace was sure they had plans. They almost always waited until after the tournament concluded. They were set to play tomorrow, which was a Friday, as well as on Saturday. Then, they would have the entirety of Sunday and Monday at their disposal. They were set to fly home early on Tuesday morning.

Eventually, the plane touched down on the runway and was maneuvered where it needed to be by the pilot. Caleb sighed as he stood. “I am not built for these damned seats,” he grumbled, reaching up to the baggage compartment and handing Ace his bag before extracting his own. Caleb was the much taller of the two, so it was easier for him to do it. He was also almost three years older than Ace, but the younger boy doubted he would ever match his friend’s 6’3 frame. His mother wasn’t tall at all. His father might have been; he had never met him. His stepfather certainly wasn’t, even though he of course knew that had no bearing on his genetic makeup.

“No idea what you’re on about,” Ace said as his back cracked in a most satisfying manner. “I’m alright.”

“Yeah, it helps when you’re five-foot-fuck-all.”

Ace rolled his eyes but didn’t dignify him with a reply. The way he was tracking now, he would be roughly average in height. He didn’t frankly want to be a whole lot taller than that. He had learned to exploit his larger competitors in everything he had ever partaken in. It would be a pain if he had to adjust his style so drastically.

The airport was a cluster of bodies, all of which seemed to try and impede them at every step of the way. Ace idly thought the two of them may have had more luck navigating through the Amazon Rainforest. Neither of them had planned to stop, but now that the journey was beginning to take far longer than they had originally expected, Caleb bowed into a restroom. Ace — now joined by his other friend, Cadmus — waited for him outside.

“Fuck, I hate planes,” Cadmus complained.

Ace shrugged. “I hate how cramped they are, but I don’t really mind the planes themselves. I actually like flying quite a bit.”

“Oh, I’m fine with the flying. It’s not worth the seats though and the people right on top of me. Seriously, the guy beside me wouldn’t give me two feet of room.”

“Yeah, those people unfortunately exist.”

Ace fingered the golden chain around his neck. He had been asked a great number of questions regarding how he’d gotten his hands on the bit of jewelry when he had started wearing it back in September. He was good enough at deflecting questions to fend most of them off. His stepfather had asked many questions, but relented easily. He’d just wanted to be sure Ace hadn’t stolen it. Personally, Ace thought that assumption had been a bit harsh. He wasn’t the best kid in the world, nor would he ever pretend to be, but he wasn’t a thief. Out of the number of things he had gotten in trouble for over the years, stealing was not one of them.

As he ran his fingers over the chain, the light caught its golden surface, and Ace could somewhat make out his and Cadmus’s reflection mirrored back up at him. Gold wasn’t exactly the best reflector, but it was close enough.

Ace himself was of average height for his age. He was on the leaner side, but what he lacked in bulk he made up for in body composition. He had brown hair that was a bit longer on the top than it was on the sides and was parted neatly to the left. He had a pale, well carved face with blue eyes that stood out noticeably. Cadmus, being the older of the two, was a couple of inches taller. He had a similar build, but his limbs were shorter than his torso in comparison to Ace, who definitely had a lankier sort of build to him. Cadmus’s skin was more tanned, his face was a bit less chiselled, and his eyes were brown. 

“Did you actually just find that?” Cadmus asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked.”

“Yeah, on the way back from school one day. It was in one of the nicer neighborhoods. I waited there for a few minutes but nobody showed. I decided if a stranger was gonna get it anyway, it might as well be me.”

Cadmus sniffed, clearly amused. “It’s about what I would have done.” Ace nodded, but he did so a bit distractedly. 

He suddenly had the intense feeling of being watched. Turning in the direction of the stare, he saw a tall, tanned girl with ocean blue eyes and platinum blonde hair. She appeared to be several years older than him, maybe seventeen, and every inch of her practically screamed stereotypical California girl. 

Ace met her gaze unabashedly. He was used to being looked at. It wasn’t even particularly out of the ordinary for the person looking at him to be an older, aesthetically pleasing girl. Such was the privilege of reputation. What was so off-putting to Ace wasn’t any of that — it was the actual look in her eye. It wasn’t curious, or admiring, or hateful, or any such emotion that he was familiar with. It looked almost… hungry, and it sent a shiver up his spine, even though Ace made sure not to let his facial expression shift. 

He was spared the interaction a moment later when Caleb, tall, lean, lanky and with a military-style haircut stepped out of the restroom and announced he was ready to move once more. Ace shot the girl one last, trademarked smile before departing with his two friends. 

None of them saw the odd reddish glint in the girl’s eyes, nor the way said eyes practically devoured the youngest member of the retreating trio.

_**Later that day, in a hotel parking lot…** _

Cato pulled his truck into the hotel parking lot with an audible sigh. He had waited long enough and he was starving — it was time to bear down on the mountain of food he had purchased at In–‘N–Out. His order consisted of 5 4x4 patty cheeseburgers, 3 orders of fries, a sprite and a chocolate, vanilla and strawberry milkshake. 

An absurd order for most, but not too far off the norm for Cato. How he was of average weight and build for a man his height, he would never know. Before his passing, his father had always joked about it. According to him, Cato, unlike most humans, used about twenty percent of his brain. In Steve Anders’s estimation, this was why his body required more fuel — Cato's brain just worked that hard and burned off the calories as a result.

Of course, Cato knew that wasn’t logical, but it was a fun justification to give people, just to watch their bemused reactions.

Needless to say, Cato hadn’t taken the job at UCLA. Not after Thorne had turned out to be a rampaging fucking manticore that had been intent on murdering him. Seriously, he was more fond of Greek mythology than just about anybody, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be killed by some warped monstrosity straight out of Greek myths.

By now, Cato was basically just killing time. He may have despised California, but he had booked the hotel room until Wednesday. He could cancel the booking, but he saw no real point in doing so. He was so far ahead in his schoolwork that realistically, he would just be going back to Georgia to spend most of the week letting his peers catch up.

At least here, he could do things that were interesting.

And they had In–‘N–Out… that was also fantastic.

He supposed even Tartarus had its benefits.

His attention was drawn to a large bus pulling into the parking lot just as he was finishing his meal. It appeared to be jam-packed with teenagers, and Cato would have estimated most of them to be sixteen or seventeen. It was Los Angeles, they could be here for any number of reasons, but that didn’t stop Cato from feeling an odd sense of… something. 

Something about this didn’t feel normal. After the manticore incident, he was on high alert. 

As he got out of his truck and made his way towards the front entrance of the hotel, he saw the gaggle of teens and a few older males doing the same. Cato couldn’t help but notice that a lot of the attention seemed to be fixated upon the smallest of the contingent.

He definitely looked younger than the rest of them. He was pale and lean, short compared to his companions — but not for his age — and his eyes were a rather vivid, sky blue colour. Cato only met the boy's face for half a second, but it seemed to send a shock through his brain. He wondered if the boy felt something too. His eye seemed to twitch and he nodded once, offering Cato a polite smile before being absorbed back into his conversation as he was led into the hotel ahead of the would-be history professor.

Cato frowned. Something about that boy wasn’t normal. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he just did. Cato wasn’t arrogant, but he also wasn’t stupid enough to deny the truth. He was a genius. His IQ tests said as much, as did every academic paper he had ever written.

Cato’s assumptions were almost never wrong, and he had a feeling that something important was linked to that boy.

Something that was, once again, going to make his California crusade go catastrophically wrong.

Ace had to resist the urge to look over his shoulder as he entered the hotel’s lobby alongside his fellow teammates. Something about the man that had followed him inside was ominous.

It wasn’t as if he felt like he were in danger like he had in the presence of the cyclops, or whatever the hell the thing had been which had tried to kill Ace back in September. He’d had no similarly life-threatening encounters since, but he wasn’t soon to forget that one. The golden chain around his neck served not only as a trinket, but as a vivid and ever-present reminder.

No, this man was different.

Ace felt as if he had seen this person before but instinctively knew the two of them had never met. There was just… an odd sense of familiarity? It was hard to explain. 

Upon reflection much later in life, he would come to realize that his ominous and familiar feelings were connected, and he would theorize that the two feelings were deeply intertwined. He had immediately realized the two of them would be in significant situations later in life, he just hadn’t realized how at the time.

And even if he had, he could have never predicted the complete and total chaos that was about to become his reality in less than thirty-six hours.

__**November 12, 2004  
The Staples Center  
9:24 PM**

As Ace leapt over the boards with steely determination in his sky blue eyes, he could not help but feel a tremendous amount of tension mounting in the arena. The Staples Center wasn’t packed to capacity. That just wouldn’t happen for a minor hockey game in California, even if it featured some of the best young talent in North America.

But this didn’t take away from the atmosphere.

If anything, it added to it, as smaller crowds tended to be more passionate crowds. One of the members of said crowd was Cato Anders — even though Ace, wearing his notorious number twenty-seven, didn’t know that. Cato had been an avid fan of the sport for many years. He supported both the Nashville Predators and the Atlanta Thrashers. 

Cato couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was going to happen. He hadn’t been able to shake that feeling ever since he had first laid eyes on the youngest member of this team the previous day in the hotel’s parking lot. Naturally, as Cato was probably the most curious person he had ever met, he had obsessively observed the group, figured out exactly why they were in town and where they would be playing, and made sure he got front row seats.

Whatever was going to happen today, for he was sure something would, he was going to be ready.

And if he got to watch a decent game in the meantime, that was only a bonus.

Meanwhile, back down on the ice, Ace neatly intercepted a poorly placed pass in his own end and began the breakout. The game was tied in overtime and Ace knew that he had to end it here and now. They were the more skilled team, but their opponents played a rather brutal style which had left many of their players battered. This game would push them through to the finals the next afternoon. The sooner it ended, the better. The more time they would have to recover.

Oh, and Ace also didn’t mind scoring the game-winning goal in overtime.

That was also quite the bonus.

Realizing he was about to have nowhere to go, he slid the puck through his legs and behind him, exactly to where he knew his friend, Caleb, would be waiting for the pass. Sure enough, Caleb took the pass and lined up a shot. Before he could take it, Ace was blindsided from behind, sent sprawling by a larger body slamming into him while he was unprepared.

Fuck, these guys hit hard!

Seriously though, that hit had sent him sliding across the ice far further than what he thought to be natural.

Not that it mattered.

He was uninjured and the illegal hit allowed them time with a man advantage. Less than a minute later, Ace had darted daringly between two opposing players, taken a magnificent pass from Cadmus, and scored the perfect goal to end the game.

Unfortunately, Ace’s elation wouldn’t last much longer.

Nor would it have existed at all had he known that his life was about to change forever. Indeed, the prospect of ever playing in a game of actual hockey again was about to become extremely slim.

As he would later think, with no small amount of regret, at least he had gone out on top and with a bang.

_**Some time later, in one of the changing rooms…** _

It was a high-energy celebration that took place in the changing room after what most of the team deemed to be an early favourite for goal of the year. Ace just soaked it all in, as he had been told to do many times. It was something that his grandfather in particular had always told him quite persistently. Talent and obsession may lead to success, but it doesn’t always lead to happiness. Happiness comes from enjoying the moments that your obsession and talent bring you.

That was something Ace was working on.

He was too naturally competitive, always moving onto the next challenge. He never quite managed to live in the moment.

But tonight, he was giving it one hell of a try.

It took some time before the players even showered, despite the fact they had all desperately needed it. Even Coach Terry didn’t interrupt their postgame celebrations. He was as excited as anybody. Winning a tournament like this would be a major deal for the team and its players; it would get all of them noticed and inevitably further their careers.

None of them were talking about that. They were all talking about the high points of the game, all giving frankly exaggerated commentaries of what had actually happened. Ace partook in this mainly with his two best friends, Cadmus and Caleb.

“That was insanity!” Cadmus was saying excitedly. “When they tied it in the third… I thought we were done.”

“How pissed off would you have been if you scored two goals and we still lost?” Caleb asked Ace.

“I don’t care how many goals I scored or didn’t score. I’d be pissed either way. You know how miserable I am to be around after I lose anything.”

“You are a terrible loser,” Caleb agreed. “Absolutely terrible.”

“As long as I’m a good winner, I’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t matter.”

Cadmus snorted. “I doubt it’ll matter when you go pro. Most of them don’t shut up with their whining to the media.”

“I’d like to think I wouldn’t do that.”

“You wouldn’t,” Caleb agreed with a smirk. “You’d just vent on your teammates.”

“Or just not say anything at all,” Terry said from nearby, eyeing them all intently. “That’s even worse. When he’s all quiet, that’s how you know he’s really stuck inside his head. Never a good thing for anybody’s health.”

“Noted, coach,” Ace said with a small smirk. 

“I wanted to talk to you, if you don’t mind?” Terry asked. “Just about some ideas for tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“You want us to wait for you?” asked Caleb.

“Don’t bother, I have no clue how long this will take. Just wait for me back at the hotel, would you?”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll be in our room,” Caleb told him, indicating that they would be in Ace’s room — Ace and Caleb were roommates. Ace shot them both a quick smile before getting a preposterously long lecture on tomorrow’s proposed strategic approaches. 

He couldn’t lie, he enjoyed it. 

Granted, he would have enjoyed it a lot less had he known he wouldn’t be seeing Caleb and Cadmus at the hotel that night.

In fact, he wouldn’t see either of them again for a very long time.

Minutes later, Terry left him alone, and Ace finally began to change into his more casual set of clothes. Before he could finish the process, Ace heard a soft knocking on the door. He paused. That was odd. Only staff members and teammates were supposed to be down here, near the dressing rooms.

That wasn’t the thing that made it particularly strange.

There was supposed to be security that maintained that arrangement and he was quite certain none of his teammates nor coaches would have bothered to knock.

Ace quickly pulled his shirt on and patted down his hair, which had been jostled when he had frantically gotten dressed. Slowly, hesitantly, he walked to the door and opened it 

Whoever he had expected, a tanned, blonde girl with ocean blue eyes wasn’t it.

He blinked. “Um… can I help you, Miss…”

“Sofia is fine,” the girl told him, smiling softly as she stepped into the room. A part of Ace realized that protesting that motion was the correct thing to do, but an equally as large part of him thought it best to just observe the situation. Despite the fact the girl was several years older and a couple of inches taller than him, Ace had no doubts he could handle her easily enough if things got out of hand. 

As she stepped past him, he felt an air of… something, pass over him. It was ominous. Not ominously familiar in the way seeing the man had been yesterday in the hotel. Just plain ominous. 

Suddenly, he realized that he’d seen her before. She was the same blonde who had been intently studying him at LAX.

“What’s your name?” she asked, snapping his thoughts back to the present as he glanced up into those sparkling eyes of hers. He went to answer ‘Ace’, but thought better of it. Whatever was about to happen, he wasn’t going to be associated with it.

“Tom,” he answered, mind flashing back to the series he’d been rereading on the plane ride here, “Tom Riddle.”

Something in the girl’s eyes danced. It was an odd sort of light, but Ace thought its motions were somewhat indicative of amusement.

“Nice to meet you, Tom. I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my place tonight? You played great today, but I know you have a game tomorrow and thought it might be relaxing.” 

Ace could feel… something washing over him. Some odd, invisible force seemed to draw him towards her as if he were a school of moths near an open flame. 

“I’m sure I could help,” she added. 

She was standing right in front of him now. Ace didn’t remember stepping forward, but he didn’t remember her coming to him either. Judging by whatever the hell was playing tricks with his mind, he somehow suspected that the former was true in spite of his memory saying otherwise. He clamped down hard on whatever mental control he had left and tensed. 

Sofia reached out a hand and before Ace could pull away, she rested it gently on his right shoulder. The same shoulder that had been slammed into near the end of the game by that Herculean hit that had hardly seemed human. Ace winced, even at the gentle touch and tried to pull away but before he could, her arm had snaked around him, and he suddenly felt himself pulled in close against her body. Ace made to pull away but found himself shocked at the girl’s strength.

That was not natural.

Nor was the solidity of one of her legs. That was certainly not natural.

Ace and Sofia seemed to realize everything was going to go downhill at precisely the same moment. 

When Ace’s leg had bumped against Sophia’s, he realized something was even more wrong than he had anticipated. Sofia, on the other hand, knew that Ace had come to this realization and sought to end things here. 

She had tensed when Ace’s knee had bumped hers, which gave the younger boy an opening.

Right as Sofia tensed, Ace slammed his leg into hers as hard as he could, a perfectly placed inside low kick from short range. Ace gritted his teeth as he felt something in his leg shift unnaturally. That had hurt like hell and he suddenly found himself limping backwards, but it had got the desired effect. 

The girl’s vice–like grip had been broken.

Ace dove for his equipment bag, withdrawing one of his skates and turning to Sofia. He knew that whatever she was, she couldn’t be human. That’s how he was going to justify throwing a skate blade at her head. 

He paused before he could do that.

She most certainly wasn’t human. Whatever glamour she had been wearing had faded, and what stood before Ace was something to be feared, certainly not something to lust after. As he had suspected, her legs weren't human at all. One somehow resembles that of an animal. A donkey, perhaps? Or maybe a goat? The other — the one he’d kicked — was made from pure bronze and Ace wondered why the hell it was so sensitive if it was metal. Her hair was what drew his attention though. It coiled off of her head in plumes of fire, swirling dangerously around her in an enchanting inferno poised to consume all that opposed it.

Ace could hardly help but wonder whether he had suddenly become the protagonist of some over the top adventure series. If he had, this was about the part where the villainous beast stood before him would start monotonously monologuing and then inevitably be defeated.

He had no interest in hearing said monologue.

He threw his first skate right at her head. 

She dodged easily, but the implement was hurled with such force that the blade embedded on the far stone wall. What she wasn’t prepared for was for Ace, just as he threw the first skate, to snatch the second out of his bag and throw it with equal force and deadly precision to where he knew she would be standing after dodging the first.

It sort of worked.

The blade did absolutely nothing to this demon. It passed straight through her skin as if it was an illusion. The actual skate itself smacked hard into her face, eliciting a pained exclamation as the monster staggered back, not quite dazed but inevitably angry.

That was the moment Ace knew he was fucked.

What he had taken from that exchange was that he could hurt the thing, but any direct attempts that might be lethal would fail. So he had to incapacitate this flaming incarnation before it did… whatever the hell it was going to do with him.

Not great odds, in his opinion.

It lunged at him, now suitably recovered from his earlier attempt to take it out. Ace sprang to the side, easily moving fast enough to evade. With the momentum the thing’s lunge had behind it, Ace thought it would smack headfirst into the wall, but it didn’t. Its agility seemed inhuman, especially considering that its legs were bronze and… something. 

It actually took the time to grin. “You’re fast, Ace Iverson.” Ace froze. It knew his name already. “For a human, at least.” It smirked. “Shame you don’t have the experience to make this game interesting.” Ace dodged once more, but this time, the thing expected it. 

He cried out as one of its tendril–like hairs of fire lashed out, igniting his left sleeve and causing him to hastily throw himself to the floor, trying to roll frantically in an attempt to put out the fire.

By that point, it was too late. 

The demon crashed down upon him, baring fangs directly above his throat as it easily pinned him down with whatever freakish strength it possessed. It smiled tauntingly down at him, clearly exhaling in its victory before it sought the final kill.

At least, it was doing that.

Until the door to the dressing room slammed open with an almighty BANG and the same man from the hotel’s parking lot charged through, snatched a spare hockey stick from the rack of them just to the left of the door, and clubbed the demon over the head with it as hard as he could.

Ace felt the thing’s body go limp and forcefully pushed it off of him, scrambling to his feet and trying to ignore the still throbbing pain of his shin from kicking bronze as hard as he could. The man’s stick was alight with fire now. Evidently, it had ignited upon contact with its flaming hair. 

So ironic that one of the creature’s own weapons — the very same that had almost granted it the kill it had so desired — would be what killed it in the end.

The man kicked the fallen creature hard in the side as it began to stir, causing it to roll over onto its back. Ace winced as the stranger bent over the monster’s prone form and shoved the still blazing hockey stick down its unwilling throat. Ace covered his ears as the man straightened up and a horrible, bloodcurdling scream was torn from the monster’s lungs just before it dissolved into a pool of fine, golden mist.

Ace and the man stared at each other for about five seconds. 

“Who,” Ace started, “what—“

“No time,” the other man answered, hastily looking from Ace to the door. “You probably don’t believe me, but there are about ten… things coming this way that’ll kill both of us if we don’t get out fast. I can’t make you, but you should really come with me.”

“I don’t even know who you are.”

“I saved you from that, didn’t I?”

Ace hesitated, glancing from the pool of golden dust to the man in front of him who still held the blazing stick as if it were a sword. “Fine,” he agreed, wondering if he had just signed away his life to some elaborate kidnapper. If the man was being honest— and Ace had an odd feeling he was— it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice. “At least tell me who you are.”

The man grinned, taking one hand off the stick and holding it out. “The name’s Anders. Cato Anders.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I know there’s been a lot of hockey in these first few chapters, which obviously isn’t to everybody’s taste. It’s pretty much over now though. It was a plot device to draw Ace and Cato together and to spark the encounter you just read, as well as a way of setting up Ace’s character.**
> 
> **The initial setup is mostly over, so now, I hope you enjoy Ace and Cato’s coming adventures!**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, November 29th, 2020.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editors Asmoedeus Stahl and Athena Hope for their corrections/contributions this week.**


	4. Perpetuated Plans Pertaining to Pipe Bombs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Umar, Luq707, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
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__**November 12, 2004  
The Staples Center   
10:46 PM**

“Ace,” the boy in question responded, taking Cato’s outstretched hand and shaking it firmly. 

The two of them glanced around the room. It was as if they had momentarily forgotten about the oncoming crisis. They had taken a respite to revel in the normality of simply meeting a new acquaintance. This was probably because both of them intuitively knew that normality wasn’t going to be a luxury they would be able to enjoy for quite some time. 

“Yeah, I’m all for the moment,” Cato said quickly as his train of thought barreled straight back into the metaphorical wall that was reality with a resounding crash. “But we really need to get the hell’uv outta here. There are about ten things coming for us that I don’t want to fight.”

Ace glanced quickly between Cato and the pile of gold dust that had been Sofia not moments earlier. “More of them?”

“No. I’m not sure if what’s coming is better or worse. A helluva lot bigger, but it doesn’t have fire attached to its body, so…”

“How much bigger are we talking?” With dread, Ace’s brain flashed back to his encounter with the cyclops back in the first week of September.

Cato shrugged. “Can’t say I was counting feet, but… a lot bigger. Like… two of her, maybe?”

“Fuck,” Ace muttered, eyes darting around the room as if he were a trapped, rabid animal desperate to escape a cage. “How the hell are we planning to get out of here? It’s not like there’s a quick way out. It’s the Staples Center.”

“So… hear me out,” said Cato, a contemplative yet anticipatory expression spreading across his face. Ace thought the expression akin to an ancient Roman spectator watching a gladiator in the coliseum. 

“That’s never a good start to a conversation,” he muttered darkly.

Cato’s face split into a wicked grin that suddenly made Ace very grateful this lunatic was on his side. “Let’s get one thing straight,” Cato said in an oddly mischievous yet still very much serious tone. “My ideas are usually crazy, but they’re almost always right.”

As Cato began explaining what Ace was going to have to do, he could only sit back, dumbstruck, and wonder exactly how the hell he had gotten himself into this situation.

Ten or so minutes later…

This was a really bad idea.

That was the only conclusion Ace could come to as he tore through the Staples Center at top speed. He was more than a little bit grateful both for his raw speed and natural athleticism, as well as the countless hours he’d spent on long runs while training.

There was a pack of beings behind him that Ace frankly did not want to get caught by. If he were to get caught, it would most definitely be the end of him. He’d debated taking hockey sticks as weapons from the rack in the dressing room, but Cato had assured him they would be of little use. He’d said that blunt force wasn’t going to be a viable option against these enemies, not unless that force was of a much higher magnitude than a clubbing blow with a hockey stick.

Ace hadn’t understood what Cato had meant at the time, but he had gotten the general picture quickly enough.

He’d made it out of the dressing room and up the long, sweeping tunnel leading into one of the more centrally located areas on the Staples Center’s first floor when he’d caught sight of the mob and nearly lost his jaw. It had done a rather splendid job of trying to tumble free of his skull and hit the floor.

It was very clear what the threat was. The only confusing thing was that the few people still milling around didn’t seem to notice them at all. How one failed to notice ten or so figures when they were all at least eight feet tall and nearly twice as wide as most men, Ace had no idea. 

He didn’t exactly have time to think about it. The monstrosities didn’t fail to notice him — as he had vaguely hoped they would — even though Cato’s plan hinged on drawing their full, undivided attention onto him, and away from the older male who had saved him from the flaming demon that had pursued him into the changing room.

There had been a moment, back in the dressing room, when Ace had wondered how he was going to draw them away from the crowd. It turned out to be childishly easy. He didn’t even have to do anything. The oversized, humanoid figures caught sight of him at once and didn’t hesitate to make a beeline straight towards him.

Ace had been just as prompt in his response to that dilemma — getting the hell out of there.

Now, he was two floors up, running for his life from the beasts which barreled towards him and seemed to never stop.

As he continued his wild, cartoonish chase, two thoughts dominated Ace’s brain.

The first of which was that creatures of this size really ought to have been exhausted by now, yet these things had seemed to defy all logic and hadn’t even so much as slowed down.

The second was that Cato had better be ready in time. If he wasn’t, this was going to end extremely poorly.

Meanwhile, two floors up, Cato hauled yet another five-gallon tank filled with propane into the back kitchen of a randomly selected Pizza Hut. 

It hadn’t been all that difficult to make its occupants vacate the area. They had already been packing up and on their way out for the night. Some basic scare tactics had them running fast enough. 

This was good. 

When everything went down in about eight minutes, Cato really didn’t want anybody to get caught in the crossfire. The collateral damage already had the potential to be disastrous. Best if everybody was well out of the way.

With the last propane tank in place, Cato began spreading out the pieces of scrap metal that would be necessary for the final component of their rather simple plan. Cato had a habit of coming to needlessly complicated solutions, but sometimes, he recognized the fact that the simplest solution was really the best solution.

The unfortunate thing was that when he usually came to that conclusion, the simplest solution tended to also be the most extreme suggestion.

Not that this plan was actually simple at all.

It just seemed simple to Cato, which was like saying the earth looked small next to the son.

He sighed. If it wasn’t broken, don’t fix it. As long as it worked, it wasn’t exactly as if anybody could be too upset with him later. With that blatant bit of self-justification out of the way, he began to construct what would soon be his homemade weapon of mass destruction.

This was bullshit! 

Ace had decided by this point that life must just be fucking with him. Seriously, he was a goddamned elite cross country runner, yet he was tiring and these fucking things weren’t?

Bullshit!

If Ace really did die here, he would be sure to punch whatever deity was responsible for this sudden lack of logic in the face. Until then, he needed to try and come up with a way for that not to happen. Well, Cato had a way, but the time hadn’t come yet for that plan to become obvious. Ace was actually rather worried about what he would do.

“Distract them, lead them back to me and I’ll do the rest,” Cato had said. 

Well, didn’t that statement practically drip with ominous foreshadowing. Not to mention, although Ace was eternally grateful to this Cato for the save, the man seemed slightly unhinged. 

But distracting them… that would be the trick, wouldn’t it? 

He veered hard to the right, running towards the nearest cafeteria as fast as possible. Thank the heavens that whatever these things were, their turning radius was miserable in spite of their superhuman endurance. This allowed Ace to put some distance between himself and the creatures. He promptly took this opportunity to pick up one of the chairs from a table situated near the middle of the cafeteria and hurl it at the nearest monstrosity as hard as he could. He didn’t look to see if it made an impact. He knew it had from the resounding crash, but he didn’t have time. 

He had spotted something that might be able to buy him some time, but if he stood still for too long, he would be flattened in an instant. 

Forcing down all thoughts of dying, Ace tore the fire extinguisher from the wall and aimed it at the oncoming beings. The torrent of watery foam that exploded from the implement nearly caused Ace to stumble. He’d only ever fired a gun a few times in his life while out hunting with his stepdad’s father, but this felt similar, in a sense.

It turned out that whatever the hell these things were, they were not a fan of water. Idly, Ace remembered something about how most giants, or at least, abnormally large creatures from myths seemed to have an affinity for fire. If that was the case, it made some degree of sense that the water was working so efficiently. Then again, maybe applying logic here was foolish. Nothing about this was logical. It was just as outrageous as being struck by a goddamned lightning bolt.

Thinking on myths, the other beast he’d encountered earlier, Sofia, was oddly reminiscent of another monster from the old, Greek stories.

An empousa, if Ace remembered correctly. 

Fascinating as the Greek myths were, he had more pressing concerns to worry about. Primarily, not getting mauled by a pack of feral monsters twice his size. 

Knowing that he couldn’t keep up the constant spray of water much longer, Ace hurled the fire extinguisher at the nearest creature’s head and bolted once more. At least now he had a course of action, and it was about time he began heading to where Cato and he had arranged to meet.

Cato’s plan, whatever the hell it was, better work, or they were completely fucked.

In the meantime, the chase continued.

Back in the Pizza Hut, Cato had everything ready. Now, it was just a matter of doing a frankly absurd number of rapid, advanced calculations. He had to make sure the metal was prepped at exactly the right time. He would only have one shot at this, and the timing had to be perfect. Getting rid of the giants wasn’t going to be the hard part. Doing so while making sure he and his new acquaintance stayed alive… that was going to be the difficult part.

He supposed it probably wasn’t the most dangerous thing he’d ever done in his life. He had done more difficult things than this. It was time to get to work.

Right about now, Ace hated just about everything that wasn’t a fire extinguisher.

But man, did he love fire extinguishers.

It was, thus far, the best method he’d discovered to keep the pursuing beings at bay. Luckily, he wasn’t going to need any other methods. 

His most recent exploitation of the last fire extinguisher he’d gotten ahold of had allowed him to put more than enough room between the giants and himself. The Pizza Hut he’d agreed to meet Cato at was in sight, and he was closing in fast.

Now, all he had to do was hope that his new acquaintance was ready.

“Cato!” he bellowed, just as the man had asked him to, “I’m here!”

Cato was eternally grateful for his sense of paranoia. It was that sense that had, years ago, driven him to spend months trying to imitate echolocation. It wasn’t perfect. He was no bat, by any means, but he was fairly good at judging how far away people were, what speed they were moving at, how quickly they would be upon him, and so on. He’d seen blind men do it, so he could think of no reason all those years ago not to try it. It had been one of the most difficult tricks he had ever mastered, but he’d eventually gotten it down and he was currently very grateful for the fact.

Without that ability, he might never have known to open the oven and throw the heaps of scrap metal inside at that exact moment. Now, he only had to hope his calculations were correct.

Ace leapt straight over the counter. He knew all too well these giants were just going to barrel straight through it, so he needed to move as quickly as possible. Just as he did, Cato burst from the kitchens with a crazed, manic gleam in his eyes. Ace would have gulped if the situation were different. That look scared him, but not as much as the beasts tearing towards him at speeds which were preposterous for beings of their size. 

“On three, we bolt!” Cato hissed. “One, two… THREE!” 

He called out the final number just as the first giant slammed into the counter. The two of them leapt to the side and sprinted around the counter, back out onto the main floor. The giants, not being able to turn quite as quickly, all barreled through the counter and careened into the wall, knocking it down and causing them to all tumble into the kitchens.

_BOOM!_

Ace actually paused as the heatwave struck him, causing him to stagger. His eyes bugged out at the sight they had just caught behind them. The kitchens exploded outwards. The entire counter and everything around it was engulfed in a roaring fireball that seemed hell-bent on consuming all in its path.

“Don’t just fuckin’ stare at it!” Cato screamed. “Move!” Ace didn’t need to be told twice and booked it towards the nearest elevator. “Ok,” Cato cried, “not that fast, holy hell!” 

In spite of himself, Ace smirked, slowing his run to a still fast, but slightly more reasonable pace, patting himself down as he went. Hair? Check. Left eyebrow? Check. Right eyebrow? ...mostly. His skin was bright red from the heat, the hairs on his forearms and eyebrows singed.

“What the hell did you do?” he asked Cato as they both ran for the elevators.

“Got rid of the giants.” 

“You made a bomb! Inside the Staples Center!”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

“How did you know it would blow up at the right time and not kill us?”

“A whole lot of calculations that would probably go way over your head.”

“Calculations? Do you have any idea how many variables there were?” Then, Ace came to another realization as they neared the elevator. “You asked me to call out so you could judge distance. Holy hell man! What if you judged wrong?!”

“I wouldn’t have.”

“You can’t be sure of that?”

“Like… ninety-nine point nine percent.”

“What about the other point one percent?”

The elevator opened and they both stepped inside. Cato frantically smashed the button for the ground floor before turning back to Ace with a rather manic expression. 

“You wouldn’t have been here to ask me questions.”

“You know what… nope, I’m done asking about this.”

“Good.”

“So… what’s the plan?”

Cato paused. “Well… there’s a good chance we’ll be wanted for blowing up the Staples Center. I have some friends who can probably get rid of the evidence before it can be submitted, but our profiles will still be sent out for questioning.”

“Okay, I’m going to ignore the fact that you apparently have friends who can just tamper with criminal evidence and ask the other question. What the hell are we going to do then?”

Cato shrugged. “Do you live in LA?”

Ace laughed mirthlessly. “I live in Canada.”

“Huh… that’s gonna be more difficult.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m assuming you’re here for the hockey tournament since I saw you playing tonight.” His eyes lit up. “You’re fuckin’ good, by the way.”

“Thanks, and yeah, I’m here for hockey.”

The elevator doors slid open, admitting them onto the ground floor. By now, they could hear fire alarms blaring throughout the building. They needed to get out of here now — that much was blatantly obvious.

“Yeah, well, I can’t really take you back to your teammates as a somewhat wanted criminal.”

Ace blanched. “No, let’s avoid that option.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Care to tell me what else you have planned?”

“Well, if I can’t get you to your teammates, I might as well drive you home.”

“You’re… going to drive me back to Canada while we’re wanted criminals?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, first of all, it doesn’t really solve the ‘wanted criminals’ thing, does it?”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Once the evidence is gotten rid of, they won’t chase you into Canada. My friends’ll make sure of that.”

“And you?”

Cato actually laughed. “Don’t worry about me, bubba. I’ll be fine.”

“Right,” Ace said with no small bit of skepticism. He supposed as long as he got to Canada, he couldn’t really complain. “Um… I appreciate it and all, but why would you do this?”

Cato’s smile widened as they neared the first exit that would take them out into the parking lot. “One, I kinda like you; you seem decent enough.”

“Cheers.”

“Two, I kinda got you into this mess by blowing up part of the Staples Center.”

Ace snorted. “That is a very valid reason.”

“Yup. Three, I have nothing to do for the next few days, since I was supposed to be here till Wednesday but I don’t have to anymore.” Ace noticed that Cato was now wearing a grin that wouldn’t look out of place on a child on Christmas morning. “And most importantly, it means I can get the fuck out of California!”

Despite himself, even though he didn’t exactly get the joke, Ace laughed. Normally, going off with a random person whom you hadn’t even known for an hour was a really bad idea. This one time, Ace was going to make an exception. He had a good feeling about Cato, and he had no desire to be arrested at the ripe old age of thirteen. 

_**Meanwhile, in parts unknown…** _

In the deep, dark recesses of an unnaturally large cave, three elderly looking women sat around a large table. If any mortal was ever blessed with the honour of entering said cave, they would either be high on the ethereal power that hummed through the air, or the whispering voices of fate and destiny would drive them to insanity. 

Probably the latter, but it was a moot point, since no mortal had stood before these three beings in millennia. 

It was rare that mortals ever met the Olympian gods, but it did happen from time to time. Whether it be due to what most regular people would deem coincidence, or whether it be a direct result of the hero’s or god’s actions, it did happen.

But these three women were no gods.

They were beings that predated the Olympians by a great number of years. They were, in fact, the three beings that ensured there was no such thing as happenstance in the world at all. They were Atropos, Clotho and Lachesis, otherwise known as the Moirai or, in simpler, more modern terms — the Fates.

The gods governed over the world. They all controlled a force of nature or reality. It was their job to ensure the force they lorded over was kept under control, and that it worked in harmony with the other forces to keep the world stable. They ran the world as they saw fit, and would intervene when needed. That was much less now than in millennia past. The gods had learned their lesson. Divine intervention often meant instability, which often led to apocalyptic problems.

These beings were different.

They lorded over reality itself. They shaped the doings of even the gods. Even the great immortals of Olympus had to bow to the will of Fate and Destiny. Much like millennia ago, while revolting against Kronos and the other Titans when the Moirai had fated a being to have the power to destroy the gods if sacrificed. 

It had been a close call and was the most well-known, yet far from the only time the Olympians had to concede to the force of destiny.

These three beings were currently sitting in chairs around a centrally located table. Atropos sat at the head of the table, with Clotho on her left and Lachesis on her right. Clotho was spinning a long, golden thread, as if weaving an intricate construct that would be turned into a simple garment in time.

Of course, the truth was far more sinister and significant than that.

Directly across from her, Lachesis measured the ever-expanding fabric as her sister continued to spin it. Atropos had a plain, black book open in her hands. 

To call it a book was doing it a disservice. 

It was impossibly thick, and if any mortal looked upon this book, their brain would fail to comprehend what they were seeing. It would manipulate the very reality in front of them to see something it could comprehend. Indeed, any mortal would simply see an absurdly thick tome that was black and unlabelled.

The truth of the matter was more complex.

This book could not exist in the mortal world because the mortal world didn’t get on well with things that centred on the concept of infinity. 

This book was infinite.

It wasn’t thick — it was never-ending. There was an endless number of pages, and this was the reality that the human eye just couldn’t see, because the human brain could never comprehend what something so obviously infinite looked like. 

Atropos flipped to a very specific page somewhere in the paradox of a book and raised a long, black quill. Carefully, with the utmost precision, she lowered the quill to the parchment. Though none saw what she wrote, if somebody was observing from the other side, it would appear as if she had drawn something akin to an X. 

Satisfied, she closed the book with an audible snap and laid it down heavily on the table before her with an equally loud thud. When done, she looked from Clotho, who had stopped spinning her thread, to Lachesis, who seemed satisfied with her measurement.

“Is it time?” Clotho asked.

Atropos merely nodded and Lachesis indicated a very specific point on the long string of golden thread. From nowhere, Atropos seemed to pull an obnoxiously large, overly ostentatious pair of shears. They seemed far too large to be functional, but Atropos handled them with well-practiced precision that had been honed over many millennia.

With a swift and deft motion, she cut a single strand of the golden thread. It caused the snipping sound to ring resoundingly and unnaturally through the cave, echoing and reverberating off the walls in a way that such a small, seemingly insignificant sound never should have been able to do.

But the motion… it was the furthest thing from insignificant.

When Atropos took it upon herself to pen a destiny in the book of fates and solidify her choice through the cutting of the thread, it meant that something big was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter was a bit of a pain logistically because I wrote Ace and Cato into a corner, but I’m fairly happy with how it all turned out. Also, if you can’t tell, I will be writing the Moirai (Fates) more accurately to their admittedly limited portrayal in Ancient Greek literature as opposed to how Rick wrote them in the series.**
> 
> **And no, that thread was not Luke’s.**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, December 6th, 2020.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editors Asmodeus Stahl and Athena Hope for their corrections/contributions this week.**


	5. Yippee–Ki–Yay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Umar, Luq707, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
> **Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. You can do likewise to follow me on Twitter for live updates and to check out my official website.**
> 
> **If you enjoy my work and would like to read all of my chapters weeks/months early, as well as gain access to other, exclusive benefits, I have a P A T R E O N page, which can be used to support me directly. It can also be found on my profile.**
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_**November 12, 2004  
The Staples Center  
11:37 PM** _

“Chevy S10, huh?” Ace asked Cato as the two of them climbed into his lowered truck. 

“You sound surprised.” 

Ace’s lips twitched. “Somehow, I expected you to have some kind of RV that was decked out to survive an apocalypse.”

Cato nodded as he turned the vehicle on. “Understandable,” he said as they pulled out of the parking lot. 

Ace noticed right away that Cato wasn’t even pretending to follow the speed limit. He wasn’t just over it — he was way over it. “Maybe don’t draw attention to us, seeing as we just blew up the Staples Center?” 

Cato merely grinned. “Oh, bubba, you’ve got a lot to learn. See, that’s the thing. All the cops are going to check out the Staples Center. None of them are going to care about a random, speeding S10.”

“That is… surprisingly logical.”

Cato’s grin widened. “Why so surprised?”

Ace gave him a rather pointed stare. “You just suggested — and executed — a plan that involved blowing up the Staples Center. That doesn’t exactly scream logic.”

“And?”

The younger boy rolled his eyes. “You know what, never mind. I can’t be asked.”

“Hey, did it not work?”

“Just because something works doesn’t mean it’s logical. That was my point. I was surprised how logical it was, not how clever it was.”

“Or the logic is just so complicated that only some people see it.”

“Then it’s not logic. Logic isn’t supposed to be super complicated. That’s against the point. Logic is straightforward and obvious.”

“Not always,” Cato argued. “Logic changes depending on the situation. And what’s straightforward to me might not be straightforward to you. Logic is an open concept.”

Ace resisted the rather powerful urge to roll his eyes once more. “Sure, if you say so.”

Cato grinned again. “I knew you’d come around.”

They didn’t speak for several minutes. While Cato focused on the road in front of them, Ace peered out of his window, watching the buildings fly past as they sped down one of the city’s main roads. The traffic was surprisingly light. 

“So… you’re actually going to drive me to Canada?”

“Yup.”

“And you don’t see any problem with this?”

Cato shrugged. “Well, if we keep getting chased by shit, that might be a problem. I doubt they’ll be able to keep up with us when we’re driving, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they showed up when we’re stopped, since we will eventually need to stop.”

“Have you put any thought into what’s been going on? I mean, none of this even seems real. It seems like some fantasy novel, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Cato agreed. “But yeah, I’ve put a lot of thought into it. I had something similar happen before I met you. Few days ago. Ruined the entire reason I came to California, actually.”

“What happened? And why were you in California? I didn’t think it was to just watch hockey.”

“I love me some hockey, but nah, it isn’t that. I was offered a job at UCLA.”

Ace blinked. “How old are you, exactly?”

“Eighteen. I turn nineteen in April.”

“And they offered you a job?”

“Assistant Professor of Greek History. I already have my bachelor’s and whatnot, just need my PhD. I won’t be takin’ the job, though. Not after what happened when I went for the interview.”

“Which was?”

Cato chuckled. “You know what’s really funny? You’re probably the only person in the world who I could tell this story to right now and you won’t think I’m crazy.”

Despite the gravity of the situation at hand, Ace actually looked amused. “I already think you’re completely fucking insane, but that’s beside the point.” 

Cato laughed. A deep, belly laugh. Ace followed suit, though his laughter was a bit more subdued. 

“I like you. You’re intelligent and you tell it like it is. Too many stupid people and ‘yes men’ nowadays.” Cato saw a shadow of something flash across the younger boy’s face, but it was gone before he could identify it. He could never have known how many ‘yes men’ Ace had dealt with over the years.

“For what it’s worth, I like you too. You might be insane, but since your insanity is the only reason I’m alive right now, I’ll allow it.”

Cato laughed again. “And the fact I’m driving you to Canada.”

“And that, assuming we make it.” This last bit was said rather quietly, and Cato couldn’t help but notice the darker undertones in those words.

“Nah, we’ll make it, trust me. If my theory on this stuff is right, we should be good as long as we’re really careful and keep moving.”

“Right, your theory; we never did get to that.”

“Nah, guess we didn’t.”

“So…”

“What do you know about Greek myths?”

Ace frowned, not having expected that question. “Probably not as much as the eighteen-year-old prodigy who was going to be a damn professor on the subject, but I’d like to think I know quite a bit. A lot more than the average person, at least. I’ve read _the Iliad, the Odyssey, the Hesiod,_ and some others.”

Cato took one hand off the wheel to clap Ace on the shoulder. “See,” he said jovially, “I knew I liked you. Hockey, Greek mythology, seeing crazy shit; we’re practically brothers already.” The two of them laughed once more as Cato returned both hands to the wheel and took the next exit. “Well, did you notice anything about the monsters attacking us?”

“I noticed a bunch of things, but I’m assuming you’re asking me to tie it into Greek mythology, somehow?” Cato nodded and Ace bit his lip in thought. “They weren’t cyclopes,” he said hesitantly. “They had both eyes and I don’t think they were big enough.”

“Correct.” 

“There were other giants in the myths, though.” Cato hummed in agreement, obviously encouraging him to go on. “Odysseus fought a group of giants. Well, escaped, more like. They ate a bunch of his men and destroyed all but one of his ships on his way back to Ithaca, right?”

“Bingo,” affirmed Cato. “Yup, I really like you. I mean, they might not be the same, but they remind me of those giants. About the same size and same description. Laestrygonians, they were called. Man-eating giants who lived in Sicily.”

“That’s really interesting and all, but how the hell are we being chased by Greek monsters? The myths are fun to learn about and all, but they’re still only myths.”

Cato didn’t answer right away. They drove in silence for nearly a full minute before he spoke once more. “How do you know that?”

“Huh?”

“How do you know that it was all just myths? And really think about it. It’s the same thing as Christianity or whatever other religion you wanna talk about. People argue over religion all the time. Hell, there’s probably a gunfight over the existence of God going on somewhere right now. Thing about arguing over religion is that we have no idea. Whether you’re religious or not, you can’t really make any points that one-hundred percent prove you’re right. Why do you think wars keep happening over religion? It’s because there’s never an answer. 

“Same goes for Greek mythology, really. It’s just another religion. It’s not super popular anymore because Christianity kinda took it over, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it isn’t real. I didn’t think it was real before any of this stuff started happening, but that doesn’t mean anything either. If you can’t prove Christianity is wrong, how can you prove the Greeks were wrong?”

The silence stretched on even longer this time, primarily because Ace really didn’t know how to respond to that. 

“I can’t,” he eventually admitted. “That’s… a really good point, but it just seems so… unbelievable.”

“Course it does, it’s fuckin’ nuts. That doesn’t mean it isn’t real though. We just blew up the damn Staples Center. That sounds even more nuts, but it happened.” When Ace nodded, Cato chose to ask him a rather pointed question. “Was that the first time you’d seen anything from Greek myths?” 

Ace hesitated for a moment and knew at once that his reaction had already revealed his answer. “You… won’t think I’m crazy or anything, will you?”

Cato chuckled. “Oh, bubba, if I think you’re crazy, I don’t even wanna think about what that makes me. Nah man, you’re good, just say what happened; I ain’t gonna judge.”

Ace didn’t know how to explain away being struck by a lightning bolt at the most opportune moment imaginable. He seriously debated not telling Cato that fact at all, but that would have necessitated him coming up with a valid and believable story as to how he otherwise could have escaped the cyclops. Frankly, he thought it easier to explain the lightning, so he did.

When he finished, Cato looked thoughtful. “Okay,” he started, “the lightning part… I was not expecting that. Not at all expecting that. That’s actually really interesting, but the rest doesn’t surprise me all that much. I’ve had a bunch of crazy things happen over the years that I kinda thought reminded me of the myths, but mostly the thing that happened when I went for my job interview at UCLA.”

“Is this the part where you finally tell me what happened during that interview?”

“Yeah, why not. The guy interviewing me turned into a manticore and tried to kill me.” Ace’s jaw practically became unhinged, but Cato wasn’t done there. “Oh, and the sixth labour of Heracles. They didn’t like me much, either.”

“Stymphalian birds, right?”

“Yup.”

“How the hell did you deal with those?”

“I got really lucky. I led them to a frat party — plenty of blaring music. The birds got the hell out of there real quick.”

Ace collected his thoughts as crazy, impossible ideas crashed against his psyche in such quick succession they might as well have been bullets fired from a fully automatic rifle. “Cato?”

“Yeah?”

“If these monsters are actually the same as the ones from the myths, do you think other things from the myths could be real as well?”

“Maybe. Can’t really say one way or the other. The Greeks could’ve just come up with the gods and heroes and stuff to explain how people managed to kill these things. Or maybe it’s all real. I have no idea, but I have a weird feeling we’re gonna find out.”

Ace groaned in exasperation. “Why did you have to say that? Challenging irony never ends well.”

Cato smirked. “Challenge accepted.” Ace just rolled his eyes and yawned. “You should get some sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Ace protested.

Cato snorted. “Sure you are. You just played a brutal game of hockey. You were probably dead tired after that. Then you ran around the Staples Center and led those things around. And that isn’t even talking about the mental stress of everything.”

“I don’t need to sleep.”

“Never said you needed to, just said you should. I ain’t your parent. I’m not gonna tell you what to do. You seem smart enough and mature enough to make up your own mind. I’ll just try to stop you from doing anything too stupid.” 

Ace muttered something about lunatics trying to give him advice under his breath, but Cato either didn’t hear him or ignored it altogether. 

“All I’m saying is that it would be smart to sleep. I’ll be fine driving, and if more things like that do pop up whenever we stop, I might need you to distract them again. You’re a damn good runner, but I’d rather not find out if you can outrun man-eating monsters on no sleep.”

Ace just sighed; the man had a point, loathe as he was to admit it. “Fine, but don’t let me sleep too long, yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Mind if I take out headphones?” Ace had them in one of his smaller bags, which he’d kept in the front of the truck with him.

“Nah, go ahead If it’ll help you sleep. Take this too. If we’re gonna keep getting chased by shit, never hurts to be armed.” 

Cato slid a rather long knife from a compartment on the dash and handed it to Ace, who just barely managed to conceal it in the large, combined pocket space of his windbreaker.

“Cheers and… thanks for all this. I don’t really know how to thank somebody for something as big as this, but I really do appreciate it.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Like I said, I like you. And honestly, I have a feeling this is going to be fun.”

Idly, Ace noticed that this was the second time in about as many minutes that Cato had challenged the seemingly unstoppable force that was irony. He only hoped that, however much of his life now seemed to resemble an action movie, claiming everything would work out in the end didn’t have the same effect it did in those movies.

__**November 13, 2004  
Heathrow Airport, United Kingdom   
5:19 AM**

Blaze strolled through the airport in the early hours of November 13th with a pensive expression. Despite his outwardly impassive countenance, he was actually rather amused. 

He’d never had problems getting up in the mornings, and often rose early to go on runs. Personally, he thought it an excellent way to start any day. In contrast to him, most of the admittedly small number of people milling around London’s major airport looked suitably lethargic. One teenage boy in particular looked very much like a horrible, comic book depiction of a zombie as he absentmindedly trailed in his parents’ wake, looking as if he would collapse with exhaustion at any moment.

One of the only other people in the airport who seemed largely unfazed by the earliness of the hour was the man who strode confidently alongside Blaze, though this man would never be caught dead referring to his stepson as Blaze. 

This man was Atticus Lane. He was exactly six-feet tall and had a pale complexion. His facial features were aristocratic and his black hair was styled in the perfect image of professionalism. To complete the image, the man wore a full, dark charcoal business suit, with a red tie and all.

His stepson, Benedict Lane — or Blaze as he vehemently preferred — did not wear a suit. He wore black chinos and a grey sweater zipped about halfway up. In contrast to his stepfather’s immaculate hair, Blaze’s black hair was more expressive. It was short on the sides, with long centre strands being brushed back and upward to form a quiff. Those same strands were also dyed to be far brighter than the rest of his hair. They were more of a dirty blonde as opposed to black. This choice of style had been a rather long-standing argument between Benedict and Atticus Lane, but Blaze’s stepfather had eventually conceded, so long as he comported himself with the dignity expected from one of their family.

To put it lightly, the Lane family was well off. Atticus had married Blaze’s mother when Blaze himself was quite young. They hadn’t been poor before the junction, but it had certainly been a rather drastic lifestyle change for Sarah — Blaze’s mother. Atticus was a rather esteemed businessman. He had stakes in a number of large businesses, and he owned several hospitals of his own dotted throughout England.

At present, he and his stepson Blaze — who’d been given the nickname years ago whilst playing football — were boarding a flight to Boston. Atticus had business there, and Blaze always enjoyed accompanying his stepfather. His mother, Sarah, was staying at home in London to watch his younger brother and keep an eye on things back home.

The stark contrast in appearance between Atticus and Blaze might have suggested that the two of them had a rather antagonistic relationship. That assessment would have been a bit harsh, in Blaze’s opinion, but not entirely off the mark. 

They certainly had their arguments, and for them to become heated wasn’t exactly a rarity. But they did get along. Blaze just took issue with Atticus's expectations, at times. Just because the man had an impressive portfolio didn’t mean Blaze wanted to follow it verbatim. He wanted to be his own person, and sometimes, he couldn’t help but think his stepfather didn’t quite understand that. When he was respecting Blaze’s boundaries, the two of them got on quite well.

After all, Atticus would hardly have paid for his son’s first class flight to Boston if they hadn’t shared at least a cordial relationship.

_**Later that day...** _

In a place he had never been before, Ace could practically feel the unearthly tension in the air. This tension wasn’t due to any particular event, it just seemed to exist in and of itself.

He wasn’t sure where he was. All around him was black, and the walls seemed to be made of roughly hewn stone. Wherever he was vaguely reminded him of a cave, but somehow that word didn’t seem right. He felt as if there was more at play here, and that was ignoring the place’s obvious, dominant feature.

In the centre of whichever place he resided, there loomed a massive chasm. To call it a crater wouldn’t have done it justice, for Ace intuitively knew that it was no mere crater. He knew that it’s all-consuming maw led down further than he could ever hope to perceive. Perhaps infinitely far; he wasn’t sure.

But no… that didn’t seem right, for there was something in that chasm.

Something that he couldn’t identify to himself, let alone quantify through thoughts or words. It wasn’t so much a being as it was a presence. Ace could feel something looming from however far down the darkness stretched. Something that most certainly wasn’t human. The cyclops hadn’t given off this feel, nor had the Laestrygonian giants he’d tackled with the help of Cato.

This was different.

Whatever it was, there was something different about it, and he instinctively knew that if he and Cato tried to take on whatever this was, they would die. They would need to blow up far more than the Staples Center if they ever wanted a chance at hurting this thing, for its power, magnitude and malevolence seemed infinite.

As did its hunger.

It was hungry… no, starving for something. Starving for something it hadn’t had in a very long time. Starving for something that Ace could help it with if he chose.

But Ace didn’t dare.

Nothing so intrinsically ominous could be good.

At that thought, the air around him seemed to grow heavier and it began to churn as a wind picked up inside the cave, or wherever it was his consciousness rested.

A terrible sound exuded from the chasm. It sounded as if the blackness itself had gained sentience and was taking its first, greedy breath, trying to consume not just oxygen, but anything and everything in its general vicinity.

And he thought it might just do that.

He felt himself slowly being pulled towards the chasm as if he were but a photon of light trapped helplessly in the unimaginably powerful grasps of a black hole. That’s what this was like. Like he’d ventured too close and was now caught in the gravitational pull, with no hope of escape.

He tried to resist but couldn’t, and crying out for help was equally unsuccessful.

Now, he could no longer compare the sound and rushing power from the abyss of nothingness looming closer and closer to a breath, for it hadn’t relented ever since it had begun. If anything, its pull had amplified, and Ace would surely be swallowed at any moment…

With a painful jolt, Ace’s head smacked hard against a cool, glass surface and he cursed aloud, eyes flying open and looking wildly around. When he noticed where he was, he sighed. There was a thin layer of sweat coating his forehead, and he felt rather shaky.

“Some nightmare, huh?” Cato asked from beside him. 

Ace couldn’t help but notice how attentive the man suddenly was to the road in front of him. All lackadaisical behaviour was gone, and there was a certain air of intensity around him now. 

An air that screamed of ominous things that Ace would probably rather have slept through.

“Yeah, all kinds of fun,” he muttered, glancing out of the window he’d just forcefully smashed his head off of. “Where are we, exactly?” 

He’d slept for several hours then woken again and spoke with Cato for most of the day. When they were several hours away from what Cato said would need to be their first major stop, he had advised Ace to sleep again. His rationale was solid. He’d been driving for most of a day. If Ace was energized, at least one of them would be if shit hit the fan. That was the last thing he’d remembered before… whatever the hell he had just woken up from.

“Right outside of Dallas,” Cato said a bit distractedly. That was good. Dallas was where they were set to take a bit of a break. 

This only confused Ace more, as Cato seemed far too on edge. 

“What’s going on, then?”

Cato’s lips twitched. “Now you’re asking the right questions.”

“Something is happening, then?”

“Something is a good way of putting it. No idea what it is, exactly, but something’s been chasing us for miles. We haven’t been able to lose it, and trust me, I’ve tried.” 

It was true. To say they were speeding would be an insult to whatever speed they were going. Ace hadn’t even known a truck from the late 1980s could move this fast.

“Definitely not human then,” Ace muttered darkly.

“No, definitely not human,” Cato agreed.

“Anything from Greek myths you can think of that could keep up with us?”

“Without wings? Not really, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like Homer wrote how many miles an hour these things could run.”

“Point,” Ace conceded, remembering exactly how shocked he’d been with the Laestrygonians’ seemingly impossible endurance. It wasn’t too far a stretch to assume some sort of mythological monster could move far faster than physics would usually allow. “Is the plan still to stop then?”

“Don’t got a choice. Almost outta gas.”

“Shit,” Ace muttered. 

Whatever the hell the thing was that could move that fast, he was not looking forward to fighting it.

Cato might have agreed with Ace’s statement had he not been too busy cursing like a sailor. Up ahead, there was construction going on. Construction that would force them to slow to a snail’s pace due to the traffic congestion around it. 

Cato braked hard, not for the traffic, but to try and make the exit to their right. Unfortunately, he braked so hard that the car behind them collided forcefully with their rear, sending the truck careening to the side and slamming hard against the barricade to their right.

Just as they made impact with the barrier, Ace felt weightless, and he instinctively knew that they’d tipped straight over the edge and were now falling. There was a short period of time they spent in the air that felt much longer than it truly was, and Ace was certain they were going to die. Miraculously, they didn’t. They landed off to the side of the highway on all four wheels. The impact was still anything but pleasant and it sent a rather nasty jolt up both of their spines, but the impact somehow felt… less than it should have been.

“Outta the truck!” Cato’s voice broached no arguments and Ace instinctively obeyed. 

Fortunately he did, for just as Cato gestured towards the nearest gas station, something else fell from the overpass above. More accurately, something leapt clean over the barrier, landing in a squatted position about ten feet from the truck, and maybe thirty feet away from Ace and Cato.

“Oh, fuck,” Ace groaned quietly, “it’s a Minotaur.”

“And we can’t lose it,” Cato muttered. Ace could practically see the gears turning inside of whatever super computer this man had for a brain. Doubtlessly, whatever it was processing, it was working at an incomprehensible speed to do just that. “Which means we need to get rid of it.”

“How the fuck are we supposed to do that?” Ace asked in a panicked whisper. 

The thing must have been blind, or close to, for it had only just noticed them. It was pawing at the ground, and though it had made no move towards them yet, Ace knew that was an inevitability.

“You do know its weakness, right?”

“Aren’t the myths really undecided on how Theseus beat this thing?” Ace asked as they slowly retreated, praying the beast in front of them wouldn’t immediately follow. “Some say he used a sword, some say he used a club, some say he used his bare hands.”

“Not what I meant,” Cato muttered. “What’s the weakness of any bull?” When Ace looked confused, he elaborated. Lucky he did, for the mutant bull took that opportunity to charge straight towards Ace. “They can’t turn!”

At the last possible second, Ace leapt out of the way, allowing the thing to barrel straight past him. This now meant the bull presently stood between them and the highway. The highway that separated them from the gas station. 

“I need to get to that gas station,” Cato hissed. “Distract it.”

“Are you fucking—“ but Ace never got the chance to finish his sentence. 

The bull charged him again, and once more he had to dodge. Cato took the opening to sprint across the highway to the gas station, showing no regard for his own life or the oncoming traffic in the process. Ace cursed as he turned to face the bull. Again, he noticed how nobody around them — aside from Cato — seemed to be noticing a thing. It made no sense, but he currently had bigger problems.

Problems that stood seven or eight feet tall and had more muscles than the Incredible Hulk.

When the thing next charged, Ace’s eyes narrowed. Years of watching opponent’s chests in sparring had ensured his aptitude for anticipating other’s movements. He could see it in the way the outside of the things pecs tensed — it was going to reach out in whichever direction he dodged and head him off. If that thing got a hold of him… well, he wasn’t going to bank on another random bolt of lightning, and he was going to be completely dead without one.

With no other option, Ace reacted instinctively. 

He leapt straight upwards and if he were less consumed by adrenaline, he might have frozen in shock at what happened next.

He leapt clean over the Minotaur’s head. 

That was nearly a world record high jump from a static position.

As it was, he had to take a brief pause and wonder exactly how the fuck he’d done that. Athletic or not, that just wasn’t possible. Nothing about that was possible. His vertical jump was good, but not that good. But then again, nothing about the last twenty-four hours had been possible. Men weren’t as large as the Laestrygonian giants either, and there were certainly no recorded creatures on Earth who resembled the mass of malevolent muscle that he’d just hurdled as if it were nothing.

Speaking of which…

Falling prey to the ridiculous amount of momentum it had generated as a result of its charge, the Minotaur had sprinted straight underneath its then airborne target. It had tried to stop, but been woefully unsuccessful in the endeavour. What it had actually wound up doing was charging headlong onto the highway.

Approximately a second later, it suffered a head-on collision with an eighteen-wheeler. 

For a split second, Ace was going to whoop in celebration.

Until the Minotaur, still very much not dead, was thrown backwards by the impact. Even worse, the thing landed directly in front of Ace. It was a lucky thing the beast was badly dazed, for Ace was now in prime grabbing range.

With a deep breath, Ace decided to make what could prove to be the dumbest decision he’d ever made in his life. 

In one quick, fluid motion, he snatched the knife that had been given to him by Cato the day before from his pocket and lunged at the beast. He landed on the Minotaur’s back as the thing shakily stood to its full, imposing height and, even dazed, it felt Ace clasp on tightly around its throat. He had briefly pondered the idea of trying to choke the thing unconscious, but if an eighteen-wheeler hadn’t done the job, he doubted a rear naked choke was going to do much better. Besides, he had a better solution.

Or, he thought he did, anyway.

With a cry of determination, Ace drove the knife as far into the Minotaur’s neck as he could manage. 

Or, he tried to.

To his utter shock, astonishment and horror, it passed straight through the thing as if it didn’t exist.

As if the situation couldn’t get any worse, the beast let out a horrible, bloodcurdling war cry as it spotted Cato emerging from the gas station and began rigging what was doubtlessly some intricate trap that would blow up every propane tank in the parking lot. 

When the thing cried out, Cato did glance up towards the fray. It was hard to tell from this distance, especially since his entire attention was focused on not getting hurled from the back of a mythological monster into oncoming traffic, but Ace thought Cato might have actually given him a rather impressed–looking thumbs up.

Seriously, did nothing phase this guy?

With its war cry concluded, the Minotaur charged recklessly across the highway and towards the gas station parking lot where Cato was working.

That was when Ace came to two realizations.

The first was that this thing was really fucking dumb. Seriously, the last time it had ended up in the street, it had been ploughed through by something much bigger than itself. What the hell did it think was going to happen the second time? His next realization was that he was either the luckiest or unluckiest person in the world.

On one hand, it was mercifully only a car that slammed into the beast this time, which meant Ace didn’t die on impact. The force of the crash sent the two of them sailing through the air. Landing hurt like hell, especially since he skidded for several feet across the paved parking lot, resulting in rather horrible road rash, not to mention a number of steadily bleeding cuts. But he was alive, which was way more than he could have realistically asked for.

The unlucky thing was that the Minotaur hadn’t landed far behind him, and it was recovering a whole lot faster than he was. Not only did his body ache and sting like an absolute bitch, but he was dazed and disoriented. 

“Ace, MOVE!”

Years of listening to a coach's instructions without question was what did it. It was very reminiscent of the few times Ace had played through a concussion and just allowed his body to react to his coach’s words. On this occasion, his coach may have been a mad genius who seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with blowing shit up, but if it wasn’t broken, don’t fix it.

In a blur of motion he was on his feet and sprinting towards the source of the voice. The Minotaur was closing rapidly from behind him, he could hear it. He also thought this was utter bullshit, but he didn’t have a whole lot of time to reflect on that. 

Seriously, the amount of bulk on this thing and it was outrunning a national, age group champion in the 100 metre dash?

Bullshit!

But he didn’t think about this. He thought only of the fast-approaching propane tank. He didn’t think of anything but the crazy plan that had suddenly formed in his mind. 

With the propane tank just feet away, he dove to the side, rolling as he landed in an effort to avoid harm.

_BOOM!_

The Minotaur ran head-first into the propane tank and with an earth-shattering sound, the thing exploded. The good news was that the Minotaur was sent flying and was now on fire, grunting and snorting in apparent agony. It had also lost one of its horns, which had gone flying and landed about a metre away from Ace. 

The bad news was that the thing was somehow still alive, and that the explosion had also thrown Cato hard against the pavement. He hadn’t been in range of the actual blast, but he’d still fallen. Luckily, he was unharmed and already on his feet once more. Unluckily, he was now directly in the path of the flaming Minotaur. Ace had no idea whether or not the beast would survive the horrid burns all over its body, let alone the fact it was still on fire. What he did know was that Cato was about to die.

The Minotaur already had its hands outstretched as it charged, and Ace instinctively knew Cato didn’t have the athletic ability to evade.

Which meant he had to do something.

Without thinking, he snatched up the thing’s horn and charged. It only took five steps for Ace to know he would never make it in time. Out of pure desperation, he threw the horn in the general direction of the bull as if it were a tomahawk. He knew it would never find its target. There were too many variables, and he could tell from its initial trajectory that it would miss.

Until the wind seemed to change, and the horn suddenly veered off its original course…

And punctured straight through the monster’s neck, causing it to melt into golden dust not three feet away from Cato. 

Cato evidently recovered from his shock faster than Ace. Or perhaps none of that had been at all surprising to Cato. Honestly, Ace wouldn’t put it past him.

He pointed forcefully at the ground as if pointing towards a kill. Then, he threw his head back and let out an obvious cry of victory that Ace only half recognized from stereotypical western movies and the like.

“Yeehaw! Yippee–ki–yay motherfucker!” He marched over towards Ace and clasped him firmly on the back as if they’d just won a major sporting tournament. “That was fucking awesome!” he congratulated. “Some of the coolest shit I’ve ever seen! Riding the thing’s back, leading it into a propane tank, using its horn like a tomahawk!” Cato was grinning like an absolute madman, and Ace could do little more than look on in utter shock at the man’s glee. More so by the fact he didn’t seem remotely phased by anything that had just happened. “Awesome!” he said again. 

Then, his brain seemed to catch up with the situation, and with the suddenness of a well-disguised landmine, Cato seemed to realize they’d just blown up even more public property. 

With horror, Ace realized it had actually been his fault this time. 

This lunatic was rubbing off on him.

“Also,” said Cato, still sounding just as cheerful, “we should get the fuck outta here before cops show up.” Then, his eyes widened. “Fuck!” he exclaimed. “My truck ain’t gonna work no more.” He sighed. “Well, guess we’re finding another way to Canada.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I mean, come on — there was no way I wasn’t going to have them fight the mythological bull in Texas.**
> 
> **Very quickly, I would like to point out that I am not trying to make any statements on religion. It was how I imagine Cato views the whole thing. I am firmly agnostic and do not wish to open that can of worms. I tried to write that scene as tastefully as I could.**
> 
> **As one of my betas pointed out, blunt objects do work on monsters in canon. We know this because Luke used a golf club before he had a sword. Kampe was also killed by rocks in canon, and Hyperion basically fell to tree bark. They might have been aided by magic, but their properties remained the same, hence mortal materials did defeat the monsters.**
> 
> **My headcanon on the matter is this:**
> 
> **If the blow being dealt by a mortal weapon would be immediately lethal, the object will pass straight through. I am basing this on Percy’s sword phasing straight through Rachael in Battle of the Labyrinth, as well as the teen wielding the switchblade in LA during the Lightning Thief. If that’s how mortal weapons work against monsters, it makes logical sense the same should be true in reverse.**
> 
> **This is also why in chapter 3, the actual skate blade passed harmlessly through Sofia’s neck, but the skate itself made impact. The blade would have been fatal. The blunt impact of a skate would not have.**
> 
> **In other news, Blaze is going to come up later, so don’t think that scene was unimportant. Another character will have a similar intro next chapter.**
> 
> **For now, I just hope you enjoyed reading this madness as much as I enjoyed writing it.**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, December 12th, 2020.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editors Athena Hope and Asmodeus Stahl for their corrections/contributions this week.**


	6. The Daemons of Erebus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Umar, Luq707, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
> **Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. You can do likewise to follow me on Twitter for live updates and to check out my official website.**
> 
> **If you enjoy my work and would like to read all of my chapters weeks/months early, as well as gain access to other, exclusive benefits, I have a P A T R E O N page, which can be used to support me directly. It can also be found on my profile.**
> 
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__**November 13, 2004  
New Bedford, Massachusetts, USA   
9:48 PM**

It was about the time of year when it started getting cold in Massachusetts. The ground was dusted with snow, and the shallow waters began freezing over. Andreia really hated this time of year for that precise reason. It wasn’t necessarily that she was averse to the cold. Oftentimes, she even preferred the gentle chill of cold, northern air to the heavy, blanketing humidity that was all but suffocating in the summers. 

No, it wasn’t so much a matter of comfort as much as it was a matter of convenience.

Andreia adored the water. 

Her father, Martin, had often gone as far as to call it her “safe place” when she had been a child. He had never experienced any issues in getting his daughter accustomed to the water, nor had it been at all difficult to teach her to swim. In fact, nowadays, she was a rather prodigious swimmer. She had never entered a meet she hadn’t won, which pleased her father greatly, seeing as he was a fisherman who liked to spend as much time near the water as humanly possible.

During the summers, Andreia spent as much time in the water as she could. Not only in the pool, but in Clarks Cove, Buzzards Bay, and basically any other body of water she could get near.

She had always felt most at home in the water. Any time her stress rose to a level that was difficult to manage, she retreated to the water; weather permitting, of course. Then again, cold water had never bothered her. She often enjoyed laughing at others who shivered and recoiled upon touching the water during its more frigid stages. She was convinced that if she was able, she would have no problems comfortably swimming outdoors in the middle of January. She was well aware that made no biological sense whatsoever, but there had never been a time in her life when she had felt cold in water, and she had been in some cold water.

At this time of year, when the water began to no longer become an option, she often retreated into the woods instead. If there was anything in the world Andreia loved as much as water, it was animals.

Any animal, really, but dogs in particular. 

Her father had always kept a dog — a Portuguese water dog to be precise — for as long as she could remember. Seeing the dog after returning home from school was often the highlight of her day. 

At the moment, Andreia was getting up from the couch in her living room where she had just finished watching a movie with her father. He would be leaving early that next morning for a fishing expedition, and wouldn’t be home for a month. He’d arranged for friends of the family to check up on her every so often, but he trusted her enough to leave her mostly to her own devices. Of course, he hadn’t agreed to that until making Andreia promise to call both him and his friends if she needed anything, but Andreia found herself rather touched by the show of trust, regardless.

Not that it wasn’t well-earned, in her opinion.

She was responsible and a good student, even despite the ADHD and Dyslexia that plagued her. She hated math, but did well enough in it. It often just took her obscenely long periods of time to finish a problem. Her grades might have been passable, but she still considered herself to be terrible at math, at least in comparison to most other things. When Andreia looked at the page, the numbers seemed to run in fear, cowering behind each other, terrified of the numerical horrors she might inflict upon them. Well, not really, but that's what it looked like to her. Dyslexia really was a bitch. 

“I doubt I’ll see you in the morning,” Martin reminded as he stepped towards her. “Remember, call me anytime something comes up. I don’t care if it’s small. I’m putting a lot of trust in you and my nerves will be shot over it.”

“I know, and thanks. I’ll call you if anything comes up, I promise.” 

Satisfied, Martin stepped towards his only daughter and the two shared a warm embrace. They were similar in many ways, and thus had always gotten along well. Andreia had Martin’s broad shoulders and brown hair, even if hers had natural blonde highlights during the sunnier months of the year. Where Martin was a rather tall man, Andreia was merely average in terms of her height. The two did share many physical similarities outside of that. 

Except for the eyes. 

Martin had blue eyes, and though most would say Andreia did as well, people who knew her the best disagreed. Andreia herself had never been sure, but according to those closest to her, hers seemed to have the rather unique oddity of changing colours, seemingly to match her moods. When she felt particularly happy, they were the colour of the sea, shifting from green to blue and back again. When she was in particularly low spirits, they were a more dull green colour, and when she was angry, they would shift to a grey that shared obvious resemblances with the colour of most storm clouds.

At the moment, they were definitely blueish–green, but Martin couldn’t help but note they were somewhere in between the two typical shades of dull and vibrant. This was because Andreia was currently enjoying her father’s presence, but the thought of being away from him for ten days was rather depressing. 

The man couldn’t help but chuckle. “Cheer up, Andy. A month isn’t all that long, and it’ll prepare you for when you’re older. You won’t always want to live with me, will you?”

Andreia scrunched up her face in distaste. “No, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to now. I’m fifteen, it’s not like I’m in college or anything.”

Martin chuckled again. “Maybe not yet, but I think you underestimate how fast that time flies. Your life could change tomorrow, for all you know. Just keep it in mind. Think about it as preparing for the future. It’ll help.”

As Andreia climbed the stairs leading up to her bedroom, she could never have known how close to the mark Martin really was. 

It would be more than a day until the occurrence responsible for the sudden shift took place, but her life truly was about to change forever. 

_**Several hours later, back in Dallas…** _

“You’re absolutely sure there’s no other way to do this?” Ace asked Cato for what must have been the hundredth time. 

The two of them were crouched in an out of the way alley, trying to avoid being spotted at all costs. They were not only more than likely wanted for the fiasco in Los Angeles, but they had doubtlessly been spotted by somebody at the gas station earlier that day, which meant they were likely wanted for even more public property damage. Cato was still confident his friends could get them out of the pinch they found themselves in, but it wouldn’t be happening overnight.

“I mean, there are other ways, but not good ones. I can count cards, so I could just win the bikes off ‘em. Problem with that is — we shouldn’t spend too much time in public right now. Talking them into betting a bike would take time.” He shrugged. “Could also blackmail them, but that’d take more scouting. Same problem as before, really.”

Ace sighed. “Right, so we’re just going to steal two motorcycles from the Hells Angels and you’re going to take me to some out of the way back road and show me how to drive? Even though I can’t legally drive for like… two and a bit years.”

“You can get a permit at fifteen in America.”

“I’m Canadian.”

“Yes, but you’re in America. Our laws, bubba.”

Ace waved him off. “Semantics. Either way, you get the point. That’s not even talking about the actual plan itself.”

“The plan you helped come up with.”

“Well yes, but that’s because I didn’t see a better option. Just because I think it could work, doesn’t mean I think it’s a good plan, just the best one.”

“If it works, it’s a good plan.”

“We don’t even know if it will work yet.”

“Nah, it’ll work. Just don’t get caught; it ain’t that hard.”

“I’m starting to see a trend here. You really like using me as a diversion.”

“No shit, you’re one of the best runners your age I could possibly find. You’re quite literally the perfect diversion.” 

They had spoken for quite some time on the way to Texas. Ace hadn’t revealed anything too personal, but he’d spoken about his more notable sporting achievements when Cato — who was apparently a fan of the Nashville Predators — had pressed him about his prospective hockey career. In return, Cato had explained a bit about himself to Ace. If nothing else, the younger boy was pretty sure his companion was a literal genius, so there was that.

“You do realize what will happen if this goes wrong, right?”

“Yup, just don’t get caught and don’t miss.”

Ace scoffed. “I might get caught, but I definitely won’t miss.”

Just as two men began deliberately making their way towards the parking lot nearest to their hideout, Cato nodded. “Well, time to put your money where your mouth is.” The two of them slipped out from their hiding spot and crossed the street, making their way towards the same parking lot as the two older men. 

The parking lot, at the moment, was filled almost entirely with motorcycles. Mostly Harley Davidsons and the like. When one considered this parking lot was connected to a bar which served as one of the major hideouts for the Dallas congregation of the Hells Angels, this was hardly surprising.

The plan was simple.

Ace and Cato needed a way out of Texas, since Cato’s truck was no longer working. Seeing as they were semi–wanted criminals and had no plans of displaying themselves in public, they had decided stealing motorcycles was their best option. Ace had driven a four-wheeler before; so he just hoped it would drive similarly to a motorcycle. 

The Hells Angels were one of the largest and most notorious motorcycle clubs on the planet. They also had a rather shady reputation, though they had been working diligently since the turn of the millennia to rectify much of it. Cato had been reasonably sure they were morally and lawfully ambiguous enough not to snitch on them if and when they started the conversation that would begin this plan. 

They also weren’t going to report stolen property. Partially because it was against their own warped moral code to do so, and partially because the last thing they wanted was a criminal investigation that could unearth more serious things on their end.

All things considered, they really were the perfect target if the newly formed dynamic duo could pull this off.

Whether they actually could or not was a different conversation altogether.

It certainly wasn’t going to be simple, and that was if their plan A went off without a hitch. If it didn’t… Ace had some distracting to do.

“Excuse me,” asked Cato, drawing the attention of the two men, both of whom were adorned in marked leather jackets. This was going to be the tricky bit of their plan A. The good thing was that it was about midnight, which meant the street was practically empty and hopefully, no one would be observing this altercation. “Was wondering if y'all took civies into your bar?” 

Translation: could you enter if you weren’t a member of the Hells Angels?

The two men exchanged contemplative glances. “For a price,” the larger one who stood nearest Ace said. “Gotta pay an entry fee. Lucky for you, we don’t care much for age.” He glanced towards Ace before returning his attention to Cato, which ultimately turned out to be his undoing. 

“Entry fee is—” In a blur of motion, Ace angled off to the side and darted forward. Before either of the two bikers could even move, he’d brought his lead hand up and driven it forcefully into the man’s temple. 

Despite the obvious size difference between Ace and this man, a perfectly-placed lead hook to the temple can put just about anybody down, and the biker fell to the pavement as if he’d been shot.

His companion reacted almost at once, spinning and throwing a haymaker of a right hand, aimed straight at Ace’s jaw. Ace had expected this and leaned easily out of the way, closing the distance between them in the process and taking a small, quick step to the side. Now, perfectly in range, he threw his counterpunch just as the man was overextended and off-balance after missing his own attack. Ace’s fist slammed hard into the man’s liver and he winced, staggering back as his body objected to the sudden shock. 

He didn’t get far. 

Cato had darted behind him, and his own punch caught the biker from behind, right where one’s neck merged with their skull. He drove his knuckle straight into the prominent nerve pocket, and the second member of the Hells Angels crumpled just as quickly as the first.

Unfortunately, as Ace and Cato discovered a moment later, the second biker had fallen straight onto a manhole cover, and his bike keys fell straight into the manhole.

“Fuck,” muttered Cato, glancing around and sighing. “Well, plan B then. I’ma have ta hotwire one of the bikes, since we only got one key.”

“Which means I’m going to have to be a distraction and then get the hell out, basically?”

“Yup.”

“Lovely.”

“How are your acting skills?”

Ace’s initial response was a roll of his eyes, though he did respond in time. “Can’t say I know myself, but I’m probably no Tom Hanks.”

Cato smirked. “Well, you better learn fast as fuck, because we need ta get the hell up out ov’here.”

_**At the same moment, in Boston…** _

Time zones were an absolute, undeniable bitch.

Blaze had known it before this trip. It was far from his first trip to America, after all. That didn’t change the fact in the slightest. 

He’d tried to sleep and had been successful for a while. Unfortunately, he woke up around midnight, which was a complete and total pain, since he actually tried to keep a respectable sleep schedule when possible.

Obviously, that was not going to be the case tonight.

Sighing, Blaze slipped out of his room and walked down the stairs. The home he currently resided in wasn’t nearly as large as the one his family owned in London, but it was still an extravagant house by any standards.

When he had eventually reached the living room area, he retrieved the keys from off of the table. 

Blaze loved cars more than he loved most things, and right now, a drive would really ease his mind.

_**About two minutes later, back in Dallas…** _

As Ace pushed open the bar’s main entrance, he couldn’t help but notice his heart rate had reached unhealthy levels of ridiculousness. He also found it ironic that it was higher now entering a bar than it had been at any point during the battle with the Minotaur, or running for his life through the Staples Center. 

Probably because as terrifying as the Laestrygonian giants and the Minotaur had been, Ace had quickly concluded during both battles that his opponents barely had two brain cells to rub together. The Hells Angels were a lot of things, but stupid definitely wasn’t one of them. 

Armed, on the other hand, definitely was. He doubted they would be overly fond of shooting a thirteen-year-old, but he also didn’t think they would have any real compunctions if he gave them a good enough reason.

All of that was to say, his acting needed to be top-notch.

Ace had never been so grateful for his ability to read people and react appropriately. He realized very quickly that pretending to be some sort of insider wasn’t going to work.

So he defaulted to panic, since it really wasn’t hard to fake, at the moment.

Hell, he wasn’t faking it at all. Just lying through his teeth about what it really was that had him so panicked.

As soon as he stepped through the door, he looked frantically around, willing his eyes to practically bulge out of his head in what he hoped appeared as utter terror.

“You shouldn’t be here, kid.” The bouncer’s voice was gruff and firm, though it was surprisingly void of any true malice.

“P-please,” Ace stammered, “I need somewhere to hide.”

The bouncer’s eyes narrowed in skepticism. “What the hell could you need to hide from?”

“Bandidos.”

The man’s demeanour changed all at once. He still looked skeptical, but he was suddenly a lot more businesslike. “Why are they after you?”

“Because my friends are idiots,” Ace said frantically. “They stole from one of the members’ sons. I defended them, and now they want my head.”

The bouncer seemed to ponder this. Clearly, pissing off Bandidos was a noble cause in his estimation. Especially since it would take very little effort on his part to make it happen. It wasn’t exactly as if housing a random teen was difficult, and pissing off the rival MC was more than worth it. Any member of the Hells Angels would likely have said the same. 

Bandidos was another motorcycle club, and they were probably the chief rival of the Hells Angels. Just granting a random kid sanctuary for a bit. It wasn’t going to cost him anything.

The attention of most in the bar had been drawn to their conversation. Both due to its length, its obvious intensity, and Ace’s age. Knowing that the attention of the room was upon him, the bouncer beckoned over an older-looking man who was evidently a high-up. After a rather hurried conversation, the older man told the bouncer to escort Ace to a back room. They would house him there for a time.

Step one was done. By now, Cato should have the bikes all but hotwired, and he would only need to stay out of sight. Now for the hard part… getting back out.

“Thanks for your help, sir,” Ace said in apparent gratitude, as the hulking figure of the bouncer led him down an out of the way hallway leading further into the back of the bar.

“Don’t mention it, kid.” He paused. “Seriously, don’t mention it, shit might happen if you d—” before he could finish, Ace had stepped behind him and brought his foot up hard…

Right between the man’s legs.

It doesn’t matter how large you might be. A hard kick to the nether regions will send just about any man to his knees. 

That was exactly what happened to the bouncer, and as soon as he hit his knees, he had no chance.

Ace’s shin slammed into the side of the man’s head like a battering ram and he slumped to the floor in an unconscious heap. Cato already had two guns from the men they’d jumped outside, but Ace thought he wouldn’t mind having a third, so he swiped the man’s handgun before taking a deep breath and making a break for it.

If he were caught, he would be completely and utterly fucked.

Fortunately, none in the front room of the bar had their guns drawn at the time, and they had hardly expected a thirteen-year-old blur to sprint out of the back and out through the door before any of them could do so much as react.

Not to say they didn’t try. 

As soon as Ace was out the door, the entire bar was on its feet, and almost every single one of them had drawn their weapons.

His exit hadn’t exactly been subtle, and the bikers also hadn’t failed to notice that Ace had acquired a gun since entering the bar.

The exact spec of which was identical to the one the bouncer had carried.

“Cato!” called Ace, sprinting out to the bikes at top speed, “Start the bikes!”

The roar of two engines told Ace exactly which direction to run in. Just as he reached Cato, he heard the first gunshot.

Thank fuck it came from too far away to be anything close to accurate, but Cato’s eyes still widened in a mixture of worry and maniacal glee when he saw the two dozen bikers chasing them down. 

“Fuck the Hells Angels,” Cato screamed as he mounted his own bike, catching the pistol that Ace threw to him in the process. “We’re the Daemons of Erebus, motherfuckers!”

Cato’s bike began to move just as Ace climbed onto his own with a lot less confidence. “Cato, wait! I don’t know how to drive this thing!”

“Well ya better learn quick,” Cato screamed back as he began to tear out of the parking lot. “Just follow me!”

For about the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours, Ace reflected on the fact that he was travelling with a complete and utter lunatic. 

But as he slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped off after Cato, he had to double down on the thought he’d had earlier that day, as much as it scared the shit out of him.

This maniac was rubbing off on him.

_**An hour later, back in Boston…** _

Benedict Lane was dripping sweat and breathing as if he had just run a marathon by the time he got back to his home in Boston and forcefully locked the door behind him.

He wasn’t sweating due to any exertion, nor was it the reason he was breathing so rapidly.

These had been the events that had just transpired.

What was supposed to be a relaxing drive to help him sleep had turned into so much more.

The last thing any reasonable human being expected to see was a dog bigger than your car, chasing you down the highway and keeping up with you.

As Blaze shakily climbed the stairs, he reflected that it was very possible he’d simply imagined the whole thing.

Either way, he really wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You’ll have to forgive me for the short chapter. This was just the best place to end it, and I won’t draw a chapter out for the sake of it, much as my Ashes of Chaos readers might reasonably think otherwise.**
> 
> **Ace and Cato are so much fun to write, and more characters have now entered the fray. You won’t be seeing any new OC centric POV scenes for the rest of season 1, though you will get a couple in the interlude chapters between seasons 1 and 2. The pieces are mostly in play now for season 1. It’s just a matter of getting it all on paper, so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, December 20th, 2020.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editor Asmodeus Stahl for his corrections/contributions this week.**


	7. Armed and Dangerous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Luq707, Athena Hope, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
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__**November 14, 2004  
Nashville, Tennessee   
10:16 AM**

When Ace spotted the sign that indicated he and Cato had finally entered Nashville, he internally marvelled at the fact he hadn’t died.

Driving a motorcycle at over one-hundred miles an hour down the highway for nearly ten hours was sketchy at the best of times. Doing so with no prior driving experience would commonly be referred to as suicidal. 

Ace had thought so back in Dallas, but he’d decided back in that parking lot that he would rather die on his own terms — especially if the alternative was becoming a human pincushion for the Hells Angels. One that would have swiftly been peppered with bullets had he not started his bike and thrown all caution to the wind.

That was another remarkable thing about the drive. 

To put it simply, the Hells Angels did not react well to being made fools of. Least of all by a thirteen-year-old boy and his slightly older accomplice. Needless to say, they had followed the duo out of Dallas with absolutely no hesitation.

This meant that not only was Ace riding a motorcycle for the first time, but he was doing so at preposterous speeds in the process. Following Cato and making a vast number of sharp turns, sudden exits and merges, as well as several other evasive maneuvers that weren’t so obvious as to draw the attention of any police officers in the area. Ace honestly had no idea how one hadn’t spotted him at some point along this journey. He’d kept his head low whenever he could, but he still hadn’t been optimistic about his chances of not getting arrested.

Yet he wasn't stopping, and they had even managed to escape the Hells Angels about three and a half hours ago. After five or so hours of chasing, the gang seemed to have given up. They clearly thought — rather reasonably so, all things considered — that they had better things to do than chase around two teenagers, even if one of them had royally pissed the MC off.

As he followed Cato through the centre of Nashville, Ace reflected on the exact moment they had been sure they’d lost their pursuers. The same moment when their plans for the day had been laid out.

_**Hours earlier…** _

The sun was rising, slowly peeking out over the skyline, casting the buildings’ silhouettes into vivid shadow as Ace continued to keep his head low and follow Cato on the quiet highway. The ethereal light danced across numerous surfaces like luminescent sparks as its vaguely orange glow beamed down upon the street. The glow emanating from the distant star at this time of the morning was more pleasant than it was blinding, a fact Ace was eternally grateful for, as any glare might have really caused him to crash the bike he was riding. How he hadn’t done so already was a small miracle in it of itself. The last thing he needed was anything that might make not dying any more of an insurmountable goal.

After no sign of any pursuers for about ten minutes, Cato veered hard towards an exit, leaving Ace no choice but to follow. Several minutes later, the two found themselves in an out-of-the-way alley, their bikes in plain sight as to not have them robbed whilst they plotted what would come next.

“Did the Hell's Angels just give up?” Ace asked, hardly willing to believe their luck. It seemed almost too easy.

Cato laughed mirthlessly. “Given up? Hell nah, they’re just waiting for a better time. They’ll probably try ‘n figure out where we went. Once they find out where we are… hooo boy.”

Ace scrunched up his face. “Ball of optimism, you are.”

“What do you mean? I never said they’d catch us, just that they would keep trying.” He grinned at Ace, who looked somewhere between exasperated and amused. “They’ve got no chance in hell of catching us and they’re wasting their time. Point is, they’ll try again.”

“How long do we have, do you think?”

“Well,” he started, “we’re gonna be avoiding public places for the most part if we can. You know — semi-wanted criminals, and all.” Ace nodded. “So, they probably won’t have intel on us that way. They will get it though.” He shrugged, seeming less sure than Ace had ever seen him before. “Twelve hours after we make our next major stop, maybe.”

“Lovely. Where is our next major stop, again? There’s no Minotaur chasing us this time. Should we not just ride it out for as long as possible?”

“Nah, that’s how you walk into a trap.” 

Ace wasn’t entirely sure if Cato was a strategic genius or the most paranoid man he’d ever met in his life. This thought brought his mind to Mad–Eye Moody from the Harry Potter series, and Ace couldn’t help but feel particularly amused at the parallels between Cato and the fictional character. It was also the thought that made him ponder on the possibility that perhaps Cato was both. He was definitely paranoid, but that didn’t inherently mean he wasn’t a genius as well. “Besides,” Cato continued, “we need to stop in Nashville.”

Ace frowned. “You live in Nashville, right?”

“Well, right now I live in Atlanta since I’m going to the University of Georgia, but I have a place in Nashville for the summers, yeah. It was my dad’s; passed it to me in his will. A nice little place with a bunch of land.”

“And, don’t take this the wrong way or anything, I’m not arguing and it’s fine if we stop, but why exactly do we need to stop in Nashville?”

Cato smirked. “Haven’t you learned by now that I usually have more than one reason for doing things?”

Ace just rolled his eyes in return. “I never said it was only one reason.”

“True, but it kinda sounded like it. Just making sure you’ve been payin’ attention.”

“You’re not exactly easy to ignore.”

“Thank ya,” Cato said brightly before becoming a whole lot more stoic and to the point. “Right, Nashville. First reason is that I need a bit of rest. You could use some too. You’re doing good, but I can tell you’re tired, and I’m fuckin’ exhausted. Haven’t slept in more than forty-eight hours, and a lotta shit has happened in those forty-eight hours.”

Ace blinked several times as if to clear his thoughts. It had been less than two days since he had played in the hockey tournament with Caleb and Cadmus. Good Gods, so much had happened in that time that it had just somehow felt longer.

“Second,” Cato continued, “I need weapons.”

Ace groaned. “You already have three pistols.”

“Yeah, not good enough; not even close. I don’t know about you, but I ain’t sure a round from a pistol would’ve killed that Minotaur. Hurt like a bitch, but not sure about killin’ it, and I don’t wanna take chances.” There was a gleam in Cato’s eyes now, and Ace knew at once he had other ideas he wasn’t sharing. “I also don’t just mean guns. Weapon’s a pretty vague term.”

“Please tell me you don’t have a bomb that you’re planning on picking up?”

“No, actually, I don’t. No point in a bomb. Just grab a bunch of grenades. It’ll do the same thing and they’re way easier to carry and hide.”

Ace buried his head in his hands as he muttered about utter insanity. “It was a rhetorical question, Cato.”

“Oh,” he said smartly, seeming to be genuinely taken aback by that. “Well, point still stands.”

“Thanks,” Ace said with obvious exasperation, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good.” Cato sounded completely serious when he said that, and Ace had to resist the urge to roll his eyes for a second time in as many minutes. “Anyway, yeah, I need more weapons, but other supplies, too. And I dunno about you, but I’m starving.”

“I could definitely eat, yeah.” Only now that Cato brought it up did Ace realize how hungry he was. After the hockey tournament, he had only eaten the random snacks from his bag — and some he had found in Cato’s truck. Since the bike theft six or so hours ago, he had eaten nothing at all.

“Yeah, I figured. Also just nice to get cleaned up, you know?” Ace nodded. “Should also probably call your parents. God only knows what they think happened to you after not hearing from you for almost two days. That’s if your coach hasn’t already called them to report you missing.” 

With mounting dread, Ace realized that his parents may very well suspect he’d died in the explosion at the Staples Center. They knew that news of the incident had gotten out to the media; they had seen it prominently displayed on the front page of a newspaper while scouting out the Hells Angels’ bar in Dallas.

“Alright,” Ace said with a deep breath. “We get to your place in Nashville. We eat, get some rest, stock up on weapons, or supplies, or whatever. Then I call my parents and… say I’m on my way home, I guess? Not sure how the hell I would explain all this.”

Cato looked sympathetic, but he could do little more than shake his head. “Sorry, buddy, can’t help ya there. I have no idea what I’d do in your spot.”

“It’s fine; I’ll figure something out. Anyway, we do all that and then get back on the road? Keep the bikes?”

“Nah, prolly not. I think we’ll make it to Nashville, but they’re not the best option. We kinda have ta drive at night just so there’s a better chance your age won’t get noticed, and that’s really inconvenient. The truck I took to Dallas is mine, but my dad had a truck, as well. I don’t really use it. Just keep it for something to remember him by, but I’ll break that out for the rest of the trip. Should still run fine.”

Ace took a deep breath and shot a look back in the direction of his bike. “I guess it’s settled then?”

Cato nodded, also starting to move in the direction of their bikes. “Yup; time to get back on the road.”

_**Back in the present...** _

All in all, it was a rather sound plan, though Ace would be lying if he didn’t admit to being a bit taken aback when Cato had originally proposed it. Disregarding the fact that the man seemed satisfied with nothing less than a personal armory at his disposal, it was not only logical but also shockingly mundane. 

Ace was very good at reading people. It had been a required trait as he’d grown up. Especially when needing to figure out who resented him, who actually liked him, and who was trying to use him for personal gain or popularity. He liked to think he could read people pretty well after all these years of practice, and he knew Cato Anders to be a lot of things.

Mundane was certainly not one of them.

Mundane might actually be the word least applicable to Cato out of any in the English language.

From the vague directions Cato had given him as they’d clambered back onto their bikes hours earlier, Ace knew them to be close to Cato’s home. The exit they had most recently taken was leading them out of the city’s centre and towards a more suburban area. Any moment now, Cato’s property should become visible…

“WHAT THE FUCK!!!?”

Cato’s cry of shock and horror was Ace’s first indication that something was horribly wrong. He had no idea what that might be at first, but the source of Cato’s distress became visible to Ace a second or so later, looming cruelly in the distance, seeming to taunt the both of them, though Cato in particular.

The house that Ace now knew to be Cato’s was ablaze. Not much of it seemed to remain at all, and most of what was left was already being consumed by the still roaring fire. 

That wasn’t the only thing, either.

There was a ring of what Ace could only describe as monsters around Cato’s property. Many of them were very clearly Laestrygonian giants. Ace wouldn’t soon be forgetting what those looked like. He also thought he spotted several cyclopes, as well as… 

Dracaena, were they called? Ace was pretty sure that was the correct creature from mythology, though he would need to double-check with Cato to be sure.

“Fuck!” Cato exclaimed once more, seeming angrier than anything else. “You fucking bastards!” He turned sharply and Ace almost tipped his bike as he matched his move. “Son of a b… ugh! Fuck it, new plan. Follow me!” He shouted all of this without looking backwards over his shoulder, and the two of them streaked away from Cato’s burning property, the mocking jeers of the herd of monsters ringing in their ears.

**_About two hours later…_ **

Ace hadn’t even been surprised by the fact that Cato had a personal safe house in the heart of Nashville. The brilliance of it, according to Cato, was how well-hidden it was simply by being in plain sight. 

That had been where Cato led Ace after their initial plan went up in flames... along with Cato’s old home. Ace knew he should say something to Cato. Apologize even though there was nothing he could have done. Offer his condolences, placations, or something more. 

But he couldn’t will himself to do it.

He was completely useless when it came to emotions. He was an extremely clinical person. He overthought every decision he ever made, no matter how mundane, and inspected every situation with the intent to turn it into something advantageous. This outlook on life didn’t lend itself particularly well to being emotionally insightful, though Ace attributed that mindset to much of the success he’d experienced in his life.

The problem, at least at this moment, was that also meant he had no idea how to respond to Cato or say anything. He could tell the man was down, but he hid it well. 

More than anything, Cato was pissed off. That much was evident. Especially when he had instructed Ace to wait while he went and took care of something. Ace suspected it had something to do with his old house. He’d argued weakly that he should come with Cato, mostly because whatever he was doing, he had no doubt it would be exceedingly dangerous. In the end, he had lost the argument. He hadn’t exactly argued very hard. It was clearly a deeply personal matter to Cato. If Ace were in his shoes, he would have wanted to handle it on his own as well.

Cato grabbed several things before leaving, and Ace wasn’t entirely sure what they were, but he had an odd feeling they would make the explosion at the Staples Center look tame. 

When he got back sometime later, his face was stony. “Yeah, we have a problem,” he told Ace. “A big problem.”

Ace sighed. “I think we have more than one, so you’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Bullets don’t do shit against those things.”

Ace blinked dumbly. “Yup,” he said flatly, “that’s a problem alright.”

“Good news is blowing them up does, which we already knew.” Ace didn’t even bother reacting to that. He vaguely wondered whether or not there were any monsters left around Cato’s property, but didn’t ask. Cato seemed to know what he was thinking. “I couldn’t kill all of ‘em, but I got most. Don’t bet on me doing that again, though. Only reason it worked here is cause I had backup plans in place already for if something like this ever happened and because I had the materials to make it happen.”

Ace just nodded mutely. “So what do we do about them not being able to be killed by bullets? We can’t just blow things up every time we see a monster. That’ll eventually go horribly wrong.”

“Yeah, it will.” He drummed his fingers anxiously on the counter he was standing beside as he thought. Ace could only imagine the rapid calculations, constructions and deconstructions of plans going on inside his head at that precise moment in time. “Well,” he said slowly, “I know what we could try, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”

“Does it involve blowing more things up?”

“Probably not.” Ace mock glared at Cato, but the man was unfazed and didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “It’ll involve breaking into a somewhat guarded area tonight though. That’s if they even have what we’re looking for.”

“And what exactly are we looking for?”

“Something made of celestial bronze.”

Ace frowned, puzzled. “Celestial bronze?”

“It’s what a lot of the heroes’ weapons were made out of in the myths. If monsters are real, there’s no reason the bronze ain’t.” He looked thoughtful. “Actually, I know it’s real. When I ran into the birds, their beaks looked like bronze, and they cut up the manticore real good, so I know it works against monsters.”

“So what, you want to make bullets out of it?”

Cato laughed. “‘Course I do, but not now. That would take time and I’d probably need a bit of practice. Nah, I want to find weapons made out of them that already exist. Judging by what I’ve seen so far, if you run a monster through with one of those swords, they’d probably just dissolve into that golden dust or whatever it is.”

That made a certain amount of sense to Ace, but he would never have managed to put all of those dots together with the limited amount of information Cato was working with. Not that he had known what celestial bronze was, anyway. If it was specified in the myths, he couldn’t remember. 

Yet again, Cato seemed to know what he was thinking before he said it. “Don’t ask, I figure shit out a lot. One of the highest IQ scores ever recorded and I was thirteen. Don’t ask questions.”

“Am I allowed to ask how you always seem to know what I’m thinking?”

“Same answer plus studying body language cues. You’re pretty good at hiding emotion with your face and whatnot, but your body language gives it away.”

“Right, if we make it out of this alive and I get back to Canada, you’re going to teach me how to control that too. I really hate the idea of other people knowing what I’m thinking.” Ace was a private person who liked to keep his thoughts and especially his emotions close to his chest. “If we ever see each other again after you drop me off,” he added.

Cato grinned wickedly. “Oh, trust me, we’re definitely gonna see each other again. That was never a question. You’re interesting, and I really like interesting things. You think you’re just gonna get back to Canada and be done with me?” Cato laughed. “Hooo boy! Not that simple, bubba. Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Despite himself, Ace couldn’t help but smile.

_**Later that night…** _

The plan laid out had been surprisingly simple.

Well, it actually wasn’t that simple at all, as it hinged on a ridiculous number of variables. An amended statement would be that it was very simple by Cato’s standards.

Then again, that would be like saying Ancient Greece could be boiled down to just Athens and Sparta.

About twenty-five minutes from Cato’s safe house sat Nashville’s Centennial Park. One of the park’s major attractions — situated in the centre of a field, of sorts — was a nearly life-sized replica of the Parthenon. Depending on the day, there would be different Greek exhibits on display. Oftentimes it was art, but Cato had seen weapons before. When he had lived in Nashville full time, he frequented the attraction almost daily, mainly to see if they had anything particularly intriguing on display.

The first variable their plan hinged on was whether or not the museum had weapons on display that day. The second variable was whether or not any of those weapons were made from celestial bronze. Ace thought this a massive stretch, and Cato didn’t exactly disagree with him, but both of them thought it was worth a shot. As crazy as this sounded to most, breaking into a museum at night seemed like child’s play after their expeditions in Dallas and Los Angeles respectively. 

Their plan also hinged on how many guards there might be. Cato said there were normally only one or two on guard. If there was one guard, this would be fairly simple, and also rather similar to the way they’d taken down the Hells Angels. If there was more than one… this suddenly became a whole lot more interesting.

Ace hadn’t allowed his hopes to rise too high.

Not even when, that afternoon — with hoods pulled over their faces as not to be identified — Ace and Cato visited the exhibit. To their utter astonishment, there appeared to be celestial bronze weapons on display.

Well, it was only a guess, and there were only two of them.

“Hey, look at this,” Ace said, gesturing Cato over. 

Cato squinted. “What is it?”

“Am I the only one who notices that these two not only look bronze, but they don’t have a scratch on them?” 

Cato leaned forward and studied the sword and spear more closely. He straightened up after a moment and examined all of the other weapons on display, comparing their various states of damage. Or, in the case of the two Ace had indicated, the lack thereof.

“Good eye, buddy,” Cato muttered. “Yeah, these two look like they’re probably it. Thank fuck there’s two of ‘em. I don’t know about you, but I’d probably want the spear.”

“I definitely want the sword,” said Ace. “More reach and I think I would be good with it. I’ve tried fencing once or twice and was pretty good. It’s not a whole lot different from hand-to-hand combat. Footwork, angles and openings are the name of the game.”

Cato smiled. “It’s settled then. After tonight, we’ll be armed and good to go.”

“Um, Cato?”

“Yeah?”

“How are we going to carry a sword and a spear while on a motorbike? I’ve nearly crashed a dozen times as is.” 

They had originally planned to take Cato’s father’s truck, but it had gone up in flames along with his home.

Cato smirked. “Easy. Sword goes in the saddlebags. Spear’ll hang off the back of my bike like a flagpole.” His eyes lit up. “I’ll even get a flag for it!”

That conversation had taken place that afternoon.

Ace and Cato had both slept for several hours after their initial scouting of the Museum. When they’d woken up around seven they’d eaten their first real meal since being on the road.

Cato had prepared an absurd amount of catfish, as well as some cornbread and coleslaw. Ace actually thought Cato was joking when he pulled fifteen fillets of catfish towards himself. At least until he watched the man plough through the heap with apparent ease. 

“How the hell is that even possible?” he’d asked Cato.

Cato laughed. “This is nothing. You should see me with steak. I got kicked out of an all-you-can-eat steak place in Georgia. Didn’t leave for four hours and didn’t stop eating the entire time. I was pissed; could’ve kept going.”

That had been the end of that conversation, and a small degree of nervousness had crept to the forefront of Ace’s mind as the raid on the museum drew nearer. He had years of knowing how to deal with pressure and nerves though, so this didn’t bother him a whole lot, though he was certainly cognizant of it. 

If anything, it made him feel more comfortable. 

At long last, he was feeling something familiar when he and Cato rolled up to the replica Parthenon as quietly as they could. There was one guard on duty, but he wasn’t paying a great deal of attention. 

Cato reached into his pocket and withdrew something that looked suspiciously like a grenade. When he’d first grabbed it back at the safehouse, Ace had actually thought that was its function. When Cato had explained to him what it was, he’d been suitably impressed. 

Cato lobbed it over the man’s head from behind. The guard noticed it at once and drew his weapon, but he was enshrouded in thick, billowing smoke before he could even raise the gun. Just as his coughing fit began, Ace rushed forward. With a swift kick behind the man’s knee joint, he fell to a kneeling position, and Ace drove his own knee forcefully into the nerve socket on the back of the man’s head.

Cato whistled as the guard slumped to the ground. “See, I know how to do all that, but I never really practiced it. I just know it’s possible. You’re actually pretty good at this.”

Ace shrugged. “My stepdad and I watch a lot of combat sports and I am a very competitive person. Once I start training in something, I usually end up doing pretty well in it. If I didn’t, it would drive me insane.”

Cato chuckled as he successfully picked the lock and opened the main entrance door. “We really are brothers,” he said, gesturing for Ace to enter first. 

Naturally, that was when everything had gone to hell.

From out of the darkness, something lunged towards Ace. He’d jumped out of the way on reflex and thankfully, so had Cato. 

The good news was that whatever had lunged at them was locked outside a second or so later.

The bad news was that — now that Ace’s eyes had adjusted — he realized they were locked in the Parthenon with two dracaena.

This wasn’t good.

Cato didn’t even think before jumping into action.

He threw another one of his smoke grenades and sprinted for the locked display case containing the two weapons. For his part, Ace lunged straight into the smoke, leaping upwards and driving his knee forcefully into one of the thing’s jaws just as he heard the sound of shattering glass off to his right. It crumpled to the floor but didn’t stay down. That should have rendered any human unconscious, but this thing got up right away.

As it was getting to its feet, the other one grabbed Ace. He tried to pull away but knew immediately it would be fruitless. These things weren’t huge, but they were about six feet tall each and appeared to be at least as strong as a fully grown adult, though Ace suspected they were much stronger.

Before the beast could do anything to him, it howled in pain and began to writhe before slowly disintegrating. A spear fell to the floor, and Ace only then realized that Cato had thrown it and impaled the thing straight through the midsection. 

He leapt out of the way just as the other dracaena made its way back to a standing position. Its mistake was planting a foot firmly atop the spear, obviously intent on preventing the demigods from retrieving it. Ace didn’t even think she realized there was another celestial bronze weapon in the room. At least not until he grabbed it, rushed forward and sliced it across her chest before she could even react.

The element of surprise was a truly powerful force that should never be underestimated.

Cato picked up his new spear with a wicked grin on his face. “Man, this is fun!”

Ace really wanted to disagree but he couldn’t. A small part of him, likely the part that had always sought out challenges and wild rushes of adrenaline, was loving every last second of this. Judging by the knowing look Cato shot his way just as he made towards the door, he knew it, too.

Ace’s eyes widened just as Cato opened the door, for he knew exactly what would happen, and the older man seemed too preoccupied in his euphoria that he must have forgotten.

Just as he opened the door, the dracaena on the other side swung a trident towards him. 

It was parried away by the bronze blade of a sword at the last second as Ace lunged forward. Cato’s eyes went wide, but it didn’t stop him from driving his spear straight through the monster’s neck while Ace had its trident preoccupied.

“Fucking hell that was close,” Cato breathed. “Thanks for the save.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ace said through a relieved sigh, trying to bring his heart rate back to a semi-safe level. “You’d have done the same for me.”

Cato smirked. “You bet I would‘ve. Daemons of Erebus for life, am I right?” He held out a hand, and, still laughing, Ace took it as the two of them made their way back to the bikes. 

It was time to get out of Nashville.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I know right now Ace and Cato seem more like Batman and Robin than actual demigods, but that will change soon, don’t worry. I needed to get them actual weapons before they could fight anything like Greek heroes. And at the moment, their concerns are as much in the mundane world as they are in the mythological one.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editors Asmodeus Stahl and Regress for their contributions/corrections this week.**
> 
> **PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, December 27th, 2020.**


	8. Ace Learns Acrobatics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Luq707, Athena Hope, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
> **Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. You can do likewise to follow me on Twitter for live updates and to check out my official website.**
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_**November 15, 2004  
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania  
10:38 PM** _

As Ace and Cato flew down a backroad outside of Philadelphia, Ace felt a small bit of amusement at how the visual scene might differ from the reality of the situation.

He had put his new sword in his bike’s saddlebags for safekeeping. Cato, on the other hand, had sought to be more adventurous — surprise, surprise. Instead of being logical, Cato had strapped the spear to the back of his bike. It now functioned much like a flagpole, and contributed much to the resplendent scene of two young men driving down a calm, back road outside one of the most historic cities in the United States of America. 

The view was perfect, with the near-full moon shining luminescent beams of light upon the mortals below. It cast what resembled silver spotlights here and there across the land that stretched out far below, and stood out vividly in the clear sky. The way Cato’s “Don’t Tread on Me” flag flowed majestically in the breeze added to the tranquil scene as well.

What didn’t add to the image of grandeur, was the fact that the two of them were driving well over one-hundred miles an hour and trying not to die. 

They’d left Nashville almost twenty-four hours ago and arrived in Philadelphia about twelve hours ago. There had been more than a few near misses on the long, nearly twelve-hour drive when Ace began to doze off whilst streaking down the highway at sensationally idiotic speeds.

Ace did manage once more to not get himself killed during the drive. It would actually be rather depressing to go back to Canada knowing it would be more than two years until he would be allowed to drive again. On the upside, he very much doubted he would be having any troubles when it came time to take his driver’s test. For all of its moral dilemmas and historical flaws, trial by fire was a truly excellent teaching tool, assuming the student lived long enough to learn anything at all.

The problem hadn’t been the drive, though Ace had come dangerously close to being spotted by the police on numerous occasions. The problem had come when they had reached Philadelphia itself.

They hadn’t ventured into the city for more than thirty minutes when the first attack came. As Ace and Cato drove down a road bordering the Delaware River, they watched as at least thirty creatures marched straight out of the water. The ones who appeared to be adults seemed to stand at roughly seven feet tall. They had dog-like faces, with black snouts and brown eyes. Their bodies were sleek and resembled that of a seal, while their odd feet seemed a hybrid between flippers and something resembling a human foot.

Telkhines.

“They made Poseidon’s trident in the myths, right?” Ace loudly asked Cato, trying to be heard over the sound of their engines and the rushing wind.

“In most myths, yeah,” Cato yelled back. “Some say they made Kronos’s scythe, too.”

“Can they fight?”

“No clue. Not staying to find out.”

It had turned out that escaping the telkhines hadn’t been quite as easy as Cato made it sound. 

Well, the telkhines weren’t terribly difficult to evade, provided they stayed well away from any bodies of water. They weren’t very nimble, and their odd feet, though serviceable, seemed as if they suited water more than land.

Naturally, telkhines weren’t their only problem.

They’d spent the entire day driving all over Philadelphia in an effort to escape. Every time they tried to leave the city, monsters of varying species headed them off. Dracaena seemed to be the most common, but they were far from the only ones. Several Laestrygonian giants had been spotted along the way, as had some more well-placed telkhines. 

Getting gas had been an absolute bitch.

They had been cornered by five telkhines and three or four dracaena. They were actually fortunate the force that was on top of them didn’t number far more, but it had still seemed quite daunting at the time. Cato had filled the bikes up with gas while Ace had defended them with the celestial bronze sword they’d stolen back in Nashville. It felt a bit odd to wield a sword in broad daylight as a weapon, but it wasn’t exactly as if they had much of a choice. They had chosen the most out-of-the-way gas station they could find in hopes of not being spotted by anybody who might recognize them from the newspaper, and luckily, the incident had gone unseen.

What was even more fortunate was that Ace was actually pretty good with a sword. 

His technique might not have been the sharpest — seeing as it wasn’t exactly something he’d practiced — but just like the few times he had tried fencing, the movements felt natural. In some instances, it even looked to him as if the incoming strikes were just a touch slower than they should have been. His footwork was exceptional and he managed to evade, block, or parry every stab from the monsters wielding short-range weapons. The ones who hadn’t held weapons… well, they had been rather easy prey.

By the time Ace had dispatched a few of the monsters with weapons, as well as all but one of those without, Cato had their bikes full of gas once more. Getting on his own before another monster attack had been difficult, but Ace managed. 

That brief scrimmage had pretty much summarized their day.

No matter what they did, they couldn’t lose the beasts that seemed hell-bent on murdering them. Why they were so persistent, neither of them knew. All that mattered was that they were and that losing them seemed to be utterly impossible.

Ace had proposed they just leave Philadelphia and keep heading to Canada, but Cato had pointed out that they needed sleep. Philadelphia was full of alleys and other places where that could happen. It was also large and clustered, so finding refuge that would be concealed well enough from the monsters was possible. Ace had to agree with that philosophy, even if he did so very grudgingly. He was exhausted, but he didn’t like the idea of just running around and trying not to die. It gave even more of the beasts time to arrive. 

By now, Ace had realized that for one reason or another, monsters really wanted them dead. He was sure Cato realized this as well, though the pair hadn’t yet discussed it. It was only natural that more monsters would come.

And come they had.

The two of them never ended up sleeping. The plan of hiding somewhere discrete and alternating shifts while the other slept had seemed like a solid plan. The downside was that it hinged on the two of them actually being able to escape the monsters long enough to hide.

That still hadn’t happened.

Even now, flying down a backroad on the pair of motorcycles, they had pursuers. They thankfully didn’t have the unnatural speed that the Minotaur had possessed, but they were close enough to be troublesome.

Certainly close enough to make Ace’s heart skip a beat when they had come to a dead end.

“Fuck!” Cato cursed, looking wildly around. “Shit, we can’t stay here.” 

He wasn’t wrong.

They might have been a significant distance away, but the herd of monsters that was now chasing them was positively massive. 

Ahead of them, the road ended. If they continued to drive straight, they would end up driving down a very steep hill that would result in a horrible crash or fall. If they drove far enough back the way they had come, they would run headlong into the pack of bloodthirsty beasts tailing them. There had been no alternate routes along the way. 

Not even Cato seemed able to find a solution. Not that he couldn’t see any. Dozens were flashing through his mind at a million miles a minute, but none of them were good and he knew he would never think of one in time.

Apparently, the universe seemed to think it was Ace’s turn to come up with a solution.

“We passed a house back a bit, didn’t we?” he asked.

Cato started. “What… uh, yeah, I think so. Why?”

“We’ve got to get into that house.”

Cato seemed to ponder this for about three seconds before nodding. “It was a mansion,” the man reminded him. “Gated and everything. There might be security.”

Ace scoffed. “We’ve dealt with worse, haven’t we?”

“We have. I just wanted to make sure you knew what we might be getting into.”

“Unless you have a better solution, let’s get moving.”

Clearly, Cato didn’t, for he turned his bike around and started driving in that direction.

By the time the two of them reached the property, they could actually see the herd approaching in the distance. The gates were rather high, but Ace was pretty sure he could climb them.

“Weapons,” Cato reminded him, “grab your weapon.” 

Cato pulled a large backpack from his saddlebag and threw it over his back. Judging by the not-so-subtle protruding shapes, Ace was pretty sure the bag was loaded with weapons. Not the kind of weapons that would be of any use against monsters straight out of Greek mythology, but certainly the kinds of weapons that would be of all kinds of use against human opposition.

Ace snatched his sword out of his saddlebag just as Cato took his spear. Ace began scaling the gates and was halfway to the top by the time he realized Cato had yet to follow. When he reached the top, he peered down and almost facepalmed. He would have, if his spot atop the gates had not been so precarious. Cato had actually taken the time to not only remove the spear but to make sure the flag he had lovingly draped on it had been detached and stored carefully in his bags.

Seriously, that man and his damn priorities! He could probably buy another one for next to nothing.

Well, once they weren’t viewed as criminals, at least.

In mere seconds, the two of them were over the gates and onto the property. Not a minute too soon, for they could now hear the monsters outside as they began running towards the manor home itself. It wasn’t massive in the way that some celebrity homes in the Hollywood Hills might be, but it was still large enough to be considered a mansion. 

Ace was halfway to the front door when Cato forcefully grabbed the smaller boy by the arm. “Rule number one about breaking in anywhere,” he stated matter of factly. “You never go in through the front door.”

Ordinarily, Ace might have asked why this mattered. He might have asked what difference it made, or if they should even worry about it given the circumstances.

But this was Cato. 

Ace would bet everything he had — and plenty more — that the man had already broken into more buildings than he ever would.

Given that, he wasn’t surprised when Cato pulled actual lockpicks from his bag as soon as they reached one of the more out-of-the-way side doors. He picked the lock in no time, and before the pair of them knew it, they were inside. 

The hall was large and vast. Even in the inevitably low lighting brought on by the dead of night, its majesty couldn’t be ignored. The furnishings were all tasteful. Nothing screamed of wealth. It wasn’t overly ostentatious, just elegant and classy.

Cato took about a tenth of a second to admire their surroundings before marching purposefully off, giving Ace little choice but to follow. They moved carefully but quickly, walking past the debonair decor — most notably the dark, polished oak billiards table in the corner that glowed with a dull sheen. 

“There,” Ace hissed, indicating a rather large–looking closet nearby. They appeared to be in one of the off–wings of the manor, so they probably wouldn’t be spotted as soon as security did their rounds.

Cato shook his head. “Nah, the attic. We can see the monsters that way. They might search it first, but we’ll be ready.”

Ace frowned. “Will we?”

Cato’s lips twitched as he removed something from his bag Ace hadn’t seen until now and handed it to him. His eyes widened as he recognized the weapon. “Trust me, bubba. I’m always ready.”

_**Meanwhile, in New Bedford…** _

Andreia sighed as she threw the last of her things into her suitcase. It was rather full, especially considering she would only be gone for a few days. A lot of the space was taken up by rather large plushies, but still…

She had a swim meet in Boston to attend. One she would be leaving for that next afternoon once school concluded. Since her father was out of town, one of his friends would drive her. The drive was only about an hour, so it wasn’t terribly long. While gone, she would stay at the hotel with the rest of her team. This had been another reason her father hadn’t been very concerned with leaving her on her own. She would be spending part of that time at this swim meet, and she had another one in two weeks.

Andreia glanced towards the clock on the wall and mentally sighed. The hour was growing late, but she already knew sleep wouldn’t be finding her for some time.

She had been to a countless number of swim meets in her life. Of them, a great number had taken place in Boston, which was where this one was to be held.

Logically, she shouldn’t be this nervous for a swim meet. 

A part of her knew that wasn’t the problem.

Her nerves were tingling and her danger senses were on high alert, but a small part of her knew that it had nothing to do with the coming competition.

Whatever was about to happen, Andreia could tell it would be big.

__**November 16, 2004  
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania   
8:23 AM**

Ace knew as soon as he woke up that shit was about to go down.

For one thing, Cato had roused him. 

He’d only done that once before, and it had been right before major shit had gone down.

For another, he could just feel it. His mind was unusually sharp for having just returned to the land of the waking, and his body seemed already wired to react.

He glanced sideways towards Cato, who nodded. 

That was all it took for Ace to scramble to his feet, as Cato also rose to a standing position. Footsteps could now be heard on the stairs leading up to the attic, and Ace and Cato briefly exchanged one, final glance. Both of them repositioned their ancient weapons so that running would be less difficult. Cato also pulled something else from his pocket. Ace didn’t see it, but he knew Cato well enough to guess as to what it was.

The door to the attic opened and two security guards stepped inside. Cato didn’t even let them start talking before he hurled the object. It turned out to be a smoke grenade, as Ace had expected. 

The two guards were caught completely by surprise, and Ace and Cato sprinted out of the attic, Cato shoulder tackling one of them in the process. Ace never looked back to check, but it didn’t sound like he’d fallen down the stairs, which he took as a positive. Ace was all for defending himself, but being an accomplice to murder wasn’t on his to-do list. Not even if it would only be considered manslaughter. 

At the first available opportunity, the two split; Ace went right, and Cato left. 

They had spoken last night about what to do in this situation, and their decision had been unanimous.

Neither of them had any delusions that the Harley Davidsons would have been left in working condition by the herd of monsters they had escaped from. Knowing this, their top priority was a vehicle. The drive from Philadelphia to the Canadian border was relatively short compared to their last few trips on the highway, and both of them sensed that they were in the final stretch of their journey.

But they needed a vehicle.

Also money.

They were nearly out of money for gas, which could be a problem.

The plan was for Cato to lose his pursuer with the use of a few more smoke grenades, slip off, and find some money. He would then aim to meet Ace down in the garage, once they found it. 

As Ace rounded a corner, his brain almost froze as a bullet zoomed past his head, missing by less than half a foot.

His heart rate seemed to double all at once as his adrenaline began to pump at levels he hadn’t known to be possible.

Everything changed when the guns came out.

Every teenager in the world seemed to talk about what they would do when a gun was drawn. The reality of the situation was that their elaborate plans would never come to fruition amid battle. When the guns came out, adrenaline kicked in, and your body resorted to what it knew unless otherwise trained.

It wasn’t so much fight or flight as it was curling up in a ball due to panic or getting the hell out of the way. Or, if you were less fortunate — die trying.

Ace had always been pretty good at the whole running thing, so his body resorted to that.

As he neared what appeared to be a grand staircase, more bullets sailed past him as his heart sped up still faster. It was miraculous that none of them found their mark. He was doing the best he could to weave in unpredictable ways, but he was surprised the man hadn’t at least gotten lucky so far. Several shots had been so close that Ace was sure they would hit him, but they all seemed to veer off course at the last possible second.

He was nearing the staircase now, but he would then be trapped.

The stairs were comprised of marble and in the centre of a large balcony that overlooked the floor below. To either side of them, railings that nearly came up to Ace’s shoulder stretched on for ten or so feet. The stairs weren’t terribly narrow, but he would never be able to dodge bullets whilst running down them. He would be a sitting duck.

“Ace, catch!”

He didn’t need to think about it. Once he heard Cato call that one command, his instincts kicked in. The body really did default to trained reactions when adrenaline took over, and Ace had been trained to follow similar instructions in sports for years.

He didn’t look back, but if he had, he would have seen Cato come from a hallway connected to the one Ace and his pursuer had just run down. He was behind the man chasing Ace, so therefore in no threat of being shot. He had also managed to lose his own tail, at least for now.

The world seemed to slow down for a fraction of a second as Ace saw something sailing through the air in his peripheral vision. He could sense it more than he could see it. He knew exactly how far it was away from him without looking. He didn’t need to gauge the distance; it was as if the very air was keeping him informed of that. 

At the perfect moment, Ace’s hand shot out and caught the spear that Cato had thrown him. He didn’t need to think about what Cato meant for him to do with it. There was only one thing the lunatic could have meant for him to do with it. 

If Ace was thinking clearly, he would never have done it. A fall from this high could easily be fatal if the landing wasn’t perfect. Even then, broken bones would be almost guaranteed. 

But Ace wasn’t thinking clearly, so he did it anyway despite the risks.

He veered off slightly, and it looked as if he would run straight into the railing to the left of the staircase.

Before that could happen, he brought the spear up and drove it into the floor at an angle. It bent in just the perfect way and Ace was sent sailing through the air. He soared well above the railing he’d just vaulted over and, once again, the world seemed to slow as he fell. For an infinitesimally small amount of time, he was sure he would die as his momentum had forced him into a front flip. 

In other words, he was fucked.

Or so he thought. 

Somehow, someway, Ace managed to complete the full rotation before landing in a crouched position. No pain shot up his legs at all. It felt as though he’d landed far too softly considering what he had just done, but he wondered if the pain was perhaps just being dulled by the absurd amount of adrenaline in his system.

Without looking up, he knew to reach out and snatch the spear from the air as it fell.

When he turned on his heel, he noticed the security guard standing stock still on the stairs about halfway down. He was gaping at Ace as if he were an alien, and he seemed too astonished by what he’d just seen to do more than gape.

Cato, on the other hand, was sliding down the banister to the man’s right — Ace’s left. Instinctually, Ace threw the spear towards Cato, who caught it with surprising ease just as it neared him. 

The security guard paid for his lack of composure about two seconds later. As Cato slid past him on the banister, he brought the dull butt of the spear forcefully into the back of the man’s head, sending him tumbling down the stairs, completely unconscious.

Ace froze as Cato landed at the bottom. “Did we just… is he?” 

Cato had already bent over the man and was swiftly checking his pulse. “Nah,” he said. “He’s fine; the pulse is still there. Probably concussed to hell and back, but he’ll be fine. Now come on, no time to stand around.”

Numbly, Ace followed Cato down the hallway to their right.

Finding the garage was surprisingly easy, but they didn’t just burst straight through the door. Cato instead came to a complete stop outside of it, pressing his fingers to his lips. Ace obeyed at once and came to a silent halt. Cato mimed the shooting of a gun, and Ace nodded, withdrawing the weapon from his pocket that Cato had given him the night before. With a nod, Cato threw open the door to the garage and immediately leaned out of the way.

Lucky he did, for a bullet flew through the space his head had occupied just a second or so earlier. Ace leaned past Cato and without even looking, he fired the taser Cato had slipped him the night before. His shot found its mark, and Cato bounded into the garage. With a vicious pistol whip, the man slumped to the floor, unconscious — he had already been on his knees from the taser blast, so he’d been relatively easy pickings.

Ace and Cato just exchanged a look. “Damnit,” Ace muttered, “you really are rubbing off on me.”

Cato just raised his eyebrows as he began his way towards the nearest vehicle. It just so happened to be a Porsche 911. If Ace was in a better state of mind, he might have been jumping up and down at getting to ride in a car like this. He’d never imagined being near one. It was a testament to how utterly wired and shocked by everything he was that he hardly even acknowledged it, even when sliding smoothly into the passenger’s seat.

“Well, I clearly can’t be sane anymore,” Ace said as Cato started the engine.

“Why not?” Cato asked, driving slowly forward as the motion sensor activated garage door began to rise.

“Because,” Ace said as Cato floored the accelerator, the force from the launch pinning him to his seat as they rocketed off the property. “I should not have found that enjoyable, but it was the coolest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

Cato’s laughter was maniacal and persistent, even as he drove the 911 straight through a horde of monsters, ploughing over several dracaena and a dozen or so telkhines in the process, coming out on the other side with only open road ahead.

Cato put the accelerator to the floor as they streaked away from the rabid herd of monsters. He was still smirking like a madman as he paid Ace a brief glance. “See? This is why we get along so well. You get it; you understand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **That vault scene might be my favourite one yet. It’s one of the first truly demigod-like things anybody has done in this story.**
> 
> **I will only say this once — demigod weapons work on mortals in this story the same way I’ve already depicted mortal weapons working on monsters. If the attack should be fatal, it will do nothing— see Percy trying to slice through Rachel in book 3 and the gang member in LA during book 1. If it will just be harmful in the short term, it will at least be able to make contact. This is how Cato was able to hit the security guard with the spear since he didn’t use the celestial bronze tip.**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, January 3, 2020.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editor Asmodeus Stahl for his corrections/contributions this week.**


	9. A Deadly Dose of Déjà Vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Luq707, Athena Hope, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
> **Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. You can do likewise to follow me on Twitter for live updates and to check out my official website.**
> 
> **If you enjoy my work and would like to read all of my chapters weeks/months early, as well as gain access to other, exclusive benefits, I have a P A T R E O N page, which can be used to support me directly. It can also be found on my profile.**
> 
>   
> [ACI100’s Discord Server](https://discord.gg/X6FtTs3)  
> [ACI100’s Twitter](https://twitter.com/ACI_100)  
> [ACI100’s Website](https://aci100.com)

_**November 16, 2004  
Camp Halfblood  
11:00 AM** _

For all the fuss that was made about the golden beauty of the west, many would consider the eastern United States to be the most beautiful part of the country. In particular, Long Island Sound was rather appealing. Its sprawling fields dotted the land with colour, as the fall leaves were strewn across it, resting atop the grass like a warm, protective blanket against the oncoming cold of the winter. 

If one travelled far enough down an old, country road past countless multitudes of these bright clusters of nature, they would come to the crest of a large hill. It too would be covered in leaves, though the lone pine tree that cast much of the hill into shadow wasn’t stripped of its vibrancy by the cold.

Over this hill, a massive valley unfolded, surrounded by forests and a beach, Long Island Sound twinkling dead ahead. The water churned turbulently, uneasy and agitated. No rain had come, but the sky loomed dark and angry, filled with storm clouds every bit as restless as the water far below them. As did the wind, which nipped bitingly at anyone unfortunate enough to suffer its bitter wrath.

Situated in the centre of this massive valley, dominating a large portion of it and sheltering those within from the cruelties of nature, was a large manor house. It stood four stories tall, including the basement and attic, and was surrounded by an old, wraparound porch. The house’s most striking feature wasn’t architectural, but instead the flamboyant, sky-blue coat of paint — a stark contrast to the stormy sky above.

Currently, the only occupied room was a fairly large recreation room, containing a ping-pong table in its centre. That same ping-pong table was currently in use, not for a game, but for a meeting of what might have been the single-most-important group of teenagers in the world.

Oh, and a centaur... and a god. They were there, too.

The centaur sat at the head of the table. Dionysus — Mr. D, to the campers — sat directly across from him at the far side of the table. 

Four head counsellors sat at one side of the table: Clarisse La Rue, Charlus Beckendorf, Katie Gardner, and Castor Morrigan. Sitting across from them were their counterparts: Luke Castellan, Annabeth Chase, Silena Beauregard, and Lee Fletcher.

Even outside of the importance of all of these teens, they were extremely abnormal. Well actually, they were significant because of their abnormality.

They weren’t exactly… human.

Well, they were half-human, if that counted for anything.

Every single one of them had a godly parent. In some fashion or another, all of them had been sired by one of the Greek gods of Olympus. 

In the case of the tall blonde girl with stormy grey eyes, it had been Athena who’d brought her into the world, even if she’d done so in an… unorthodox fashion.

Annabeth surveyed those around her with a pensive countenance. She was the youngest of the gathered counsellors, though she had more beads on her camp necklace — one bead for each year at camp — than almost all of them. Of course, Luke had the same number as her, but he was different. He had actually been on a quest, for one thing. Nobody else at the table could boast of that.

Meetings of the counsellors and camp directors weren’t particularly frequent, though they weren’t terribly rare, either. Usually, they were scheduled in advance. If they weren’t, something major had necessitated it. Annabeth knew with complete certainty that the latter was presently the case. Not only because she had no idea of the meeting’s subject, but because Chiron and Mr. D were uncharacteristically stoic. 

Somber, even.

The centaur, in particular, looked every bit his three thousand years of age. He didn’t look as if he had slept at all, and the stress of whatever situation was on hand was discernible in his aged, lined countenance. Even Dionysus wasn’t his usual, sarcastic self. He was rather muted and seemed as if he wouldn’t be making any interjections in today's meeting.

Annabeth could tell she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed, either. Luke had tensed beside her, and Clarisse’s brown eyes darted around as if analyzing a battlefield. Silena seemed nervous, as did Katie. Beckendorf was completely impassive, but he was always that way. Annabeth was the only one who could read him, but she had certain… advantages that weren’t available to the others.

Chiron cleared his throat. The tension in the room seemed to both thicken and lessen at the same time. It was odd. On one hand, the anticipation had mounted to nearly unbearable levels. On the other, the growing wonder as to who would start the meeting — and when they would do so — had finally been broken.

“Shall we begin?” Chiron asked from his wheelchair situated at the head of the long table, two seats to Annabeth’s right. Nobody objected, so Chiron took that as his cue to begin. 

“Welcome, everyone, and thank you for coming on such short notice. Mr. D and I have been expecting this meeting for some time, but we know that none of you were aware of it until today, so we are grateful you’re all here.” Dionysus didn’t look particularly grateful, but no one minded much. He was simply there, as usual. “I’m sure you’re wondering why this meeting was called?” 

Everybody nodded at Chiron’s question and Annabeth felt herself leaning forward. Damn Athena and her natural thirst for knowledge. That just so happened to mean that her children were blessed — or cursed, depending on how you looked at it — with a natural curiosity that was difficult to manage at times. 

“We meet today,” Chiron continued, “by the order of Olympus. The King of Olympus, in fact.”

Muttering erupted around the table as soon as Chiron finished speaking. Baffled and awestruck looks were exchanged as the tension thickened even more, something Annabeth hadn’t known was possible. From her right-hand side, Luke was studying Chiron with a suspicious look. Annabeth couldn’t blame him. She had been at camp for four and a half years now, and had never heard of any Olympian directly ordering anything. Well, except for Luke’s brief quest on behalf of his father. Even then, with full respect to Hermes, he was no Zeus.

“Yes, yes,” Chiron said, attempting to restore a facade of order, “this meeting has been ordered by Zeus himself.” He paused. “Technically speaking, I suppose it is only a quest that was ordered by the King of the Gods. However, it is standard camp procedure to hold these meetings before major quests are permitted. Of course, while there is no question that we will permit a quest ordered by Zeus himself, the question remains as to who will go on this quest.”

“And what it is,” Clarisse muttered, but not quite quietly enough for Chiron to not hear her. “That would also be helpful.”

“Indeed it would, my dear,” the centaur said with a smile, removing a golden drachma from his pocket. “Mr. D, if you would?” Dionysus merely grunted, waving his hand and creating a shimmering mist of water in the air. “O Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering.” With a well-practiced flick of his wrist, Chiron sent the ancient currency sailing into the mist before intoning, “Show me Ace Iverson at the Staples Center.”

The mist seemed to flicker before an image displayed itself. Annabeth’s brows knit together. The image showed a boy. An ordinary boy, by all accounts. He looked no older than her, had light brown hair, sky blue eyes and chiselled facial features. Okay, so maybe he was decent-looking, and he had a distinctly athletic build, but Annabeth couldn’t imagine why a full meeting of the camp counsellors would be called to watch a middle school student.

Right up until he led a herd of Laestrygonian giants headlong into an explosive death trap. 

Those around the table started murmuring among themselves, but Chiron silenced them with a look and waved his hand through the misty vapour still hovering in the air.

The scene changed, and Annabeth gaped.

The same boy was standing on what appeared to be the side of a busy highway. She couldn’t tell where they were, but it looked hot, so she assumed somewhere in the southern United States. 

This wasn’t what made Annabeth gape though. Nor was it what made Katie Gardner pale and look sick, just as Silena Beauregard let out a high pitched squeal of terror.

This boy was facing down what was unmistakably the Minotaur. Annabeth had never seen it before, but this monster could be nothing other than the famous foe of Theseus.

They watched in collective awe as the boy leapt straight over the bull, as if it were merely a hurdle, then jumped onto the thing’s back and led it straight into a hastily constructed death trap. 

Annabeth forcefully retracted her earlier statement.

Whoever the hell this boy was, he was absolutely not normal.

With another wave of his hand, Chiron changed the scene once more. This time, the campers let out exclamations of awe as the boy used a spear to pole-vault into the air, doing a full front flip before landing on his feet as if nothing had happened, throwing the spear to his companion and just moving casually along.

That wasn’t even mentioning how high he’d vaulted from.

His legs should have been shattered.

“I think that’s enough to get the point across,” Chiron decided. With one final wave of his hand, the images ceased as the shimmering water vanished with a snap of Mr. D’s fingers. Chiron peered across the table at all of them, studying each individual in turn. “Can anyone guess why I am showing you all of this?”

Annabeth had ideas. She suspected Luke might as well, but it was hard to be sure. His expression was guarded and he was looking anywhere but at her, which made it a lot more difficult to get a read on him. 

Chiron clearly noticed her suspicions. Or, he just called her out seeing as she was the daughter of the wisdom goddess. That was also possible. “Any ideas, Annabeth, my dear?”

She didn’t speak for about ten seconds as she stared at the centaur intently. “He’s a son of Zeus, isn’t he? That fall should have been devastating.”

Sombrely, Chiron nodded, and the room fell into complete and utter chaos as the campers were struck by that revelation with all the force of a speeding train.

“Impossible,” one of them said.

“Again?” said another.

“Oh, shit!” 

“What are we going to do?”

“Can’t Zeus just keep it in his pants?” 

That last comment was made by Clarisse, and it did a rather admirable job of easing the tension in the room. Annabeth was sure the daughter of Ares hadn’t planned for it to happen that way, but she was equally sure the girl in question would happily take credit for it if the point ever arose.

“I know that you doubtlessly have questions,” Chiron said with a weary expression. “Some of them can be answered now. Others will not be elaborated on until later. Some because I cannot speak on them, others because I don’t know myself. I will answer what I can, but you must have patience.” 

He looked sternly at each of them in turn. “Above all else, this cannot leave this room. I cannot force any of you to swear it on the River Styx, nor would I make you if I could. But this information is too sensitive — too important. No matter what happens, none of you are to speak of this to anybody who was not privy to this meeting. Do I make myself clear?” They all nodded and he sighed. “Very well then. Questions?”

The room exploded into chatter all at once, and it took several minutes to begin answering the questions. 

In the end, Lee Fletcher got to ask first. “Shouldn’t this be impossible? Didn’t the Big Three swear off children like... sixty years ago?”

Chiron scratched his beard. “They did, yes. Near the end of World War II. Their children were too powerful. They were changing the course of human history too drastically. Unfortunately, when three immortal beings swear on the Styx, it means much less than you might think.”

“Because there’s nothing that binds them,” Luke said darkly. “They can’t die; they’re immortal. What do they have to fear from breaking their vow?”

“Precisely,” Chiron agreed. “Which is why Zeus has now broken the pact twice. To our knowledge, both Hades and Poseidon have stayed true to their word, at least for now.”

“So what do we do?” asked Clarisse, looking more alert than Annabeth had ever seen her outside of the sword arena or during a game of capture the flag. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Luke, his voice hard and determined. When he received mostly blank stares his jaw tightened. “We find him and bring him to camp.” He turned his head to look directly and pointedly towards Chiron. “That was Zeus’s command, wasn’t it? He ordered a quest to get his son safely to camp. He didn’t want to take any chances after… last time.”

Luke’s words hung in the air. Annabeth felt a painful pull in her gut at the implications of their failure to get Thalia safely to Camp Halfblood. It might have been four and a half years ago, but Annabeth still had horrible nightmares from that adventure. The final night, in particular. Between the encounter with the cyclops and the crushing loss of one of her first true friends meeting their end, she easily considered that night as the worst of her life.

Chiron nodded; there was no point in denying it. The cat was out of the bag and a heavy silence fell over the table. 

“I’m going.” Luke’s voice was firm and seemed to broach no arguments. 

“You can’t just say you’re going,” said Clarisse with a roll of her eyes. “That isn’t how this works. We discuss it and then vote on who is the most capable—”

“Would you argue that I’m not the most capable, Clarisse?” 

Everybody knew that it was a rhetorical question. Luke was the best swordsman the camp had seen in the past three-hundred years. He also had more experience than any of them. No matter the results of his single quest, its mere existence meant that Luke had been on exactly one more expedition than the rest of them.

“I would tend to agree that Luke is likely most well-suited for this challenge,” Chiron said carefully. “As he knows very well, a child of Zeus is bound to attract an exorbitant number of monsters. That is assuming Hades or Hera has not already sought to it that the boy is eliminated on principle. If they have, this task will only be even more daunting.”

“I’m ready,” Luke said without hesitating. “I accept the challenge from Lord Zeus if the council will allow me.”

Chiron glanced around the room. “Do we have any objections?” 

Nobody said a word. Even Clarisse seemed suitably cowed.

“Very well. It seems as if our quest has its leader.” A mutter of assent shot down the table. “So long as there are no groundbreaking objections to your choice, it is your right to choose companions, Luke.” He paused. “Or in this case, a companion.”

“I thought if a quest was to be carried out in a group, it was supposed to be three?” asked Annabeth. “It’s a powerful number, is it not?”

Chiron smiled. “It is indeed, my dear, as you well know. There are three Fates, three Furies, and three great Olympian sons of Kronos, among other things.”

“Then why aren’t three going on this quest?”

“Fewer people attract fewer monsters,” Luke said quietly. “If we’re going after a son of Zeus and his friend — who also doesn’t exactly look like a pushover, by the way — then our numbers should be limited.”

“Two is a precaution,” Chiron admitted. “Just in case… the worst were to happen.” The atmosphere in the room darkened, but Chiron didn’t allow the silence to stretch on for too long. “Well, Luke, do you have a counterpart in mind?”

Annabeth’s heart raced as Luke’s blue eyes roamed calculatingly over the gathered counsellors. Dread filled her when they never landed on her, but a second later, Luke cracked an easy smile and nodded. “Annabeth,” he said simply.

Chiron seemed to age in front of Annabeth’s very eyes. She had asked him to go on quests for years. Practically ever since Thalia had perished that fateful night years earlier. He had always turned her down. Not because he didn’t think her ready, but because ‘her time had yet to come’. She would get her chance, the centaur had assured her, but it would come when somebody special arrived at camp.

Now she knew that this Ace Iverson was that somebody special. 

Not exactly hard to work out when one considered that he was the son of Zeus, defeater of Kronos and King of the Gods.

“You’re... quite sure, Luke? She is young.”

“There was never any doubt.” The confidence in Luke’s voice made Annabeth beam at him, practically glowing with pride under his proclamation.

Chiron sighed. “Well then, I suppose there is only one thing left for you to do, my child. It is time for you to consult the Oracle.”

_**Several hours later, in Buffalo…** _

Ace had gone through his fair share of shitty days in his life.

Major losses in sports, particularly gruesome days of bullying, the day he had been expelled from Ridgemont… the list went on.

But without doubt, this was the shittiest day of his life thus far. Simply because of how close he’d been to freedom, just to have it forcefully stripped away from him at the last possible second. It was as if fate itself had chosen to taunt him. It seemed too cruel to be a simple coincidence and in a world where Greek monsters were real, he saw no reason why divine intervention was an unreasonable target of blame.

Just as they had neared the bridge that would take them into Canada, everything had gone wrong.

It was completely blocked off by monsters of every variety. Not only were there dracaena, telkhines, Laestrygonian giants and empousai, but there were things Ace hadn’t seen. He recognized several hellhounds on sight. They were pretty much exactly as they sounded and had been described in the myths, but that didn’t make them any less terrifying.

“Fuck!” screamed Cato and in the single stupidest yet doubtlessly the coolest thing Ace had ever seen, Cato slammed on the hand brake and spun his wheel furiously.

The top of the line Porsche 911 executed a perfect, one-hundred-eighty degree drift, turning into the correct lane of traffic and accelerating once more, taking them away from the packs of monsters that were leering at them, calling for their bloody, gory deaths.

It was all quite morbid, actually.

“What do we do now?” 

Cato seemed to be thinking hard. “You live in Ontario, right?” Ace nodded. “Well, if they know that, they’ll have all entrances to Ontario blocked off. Maybe even Quebec, too.” He thought for a moment. “We could cross by water, but the nearest place I could think that wouldn’t take us into Ontario or Quebec directly would be Boston. I assume monsters aren’t as bad on the Canadian side, since you didn’t get swarmed until coming to the US. Once we get ya across, it should be smooth sailing.”

Ace hated this plan.

He hated this plan with a passion.

He and water didn’t get along.

He knew how to swim; that wasn’t the problem.

He’d had an incident with his stepfather when he was three-years-old that had involved the flipping of a canoe. By his stepfather’s own admission, he had nearly drowned. To this day, Ace still remembered the impossible sensation he’d felt. As if the water itself were grabbing him, pulling him downwards.

Swimming indoors was one thing. He had been forced to do that for hockey as part of his conditioning, but outdoors… that was a no-go.

Ace hated water outdoors. It was one of the few things that genuinely scared him.

But it wasn’t exactly like he had much of a choice in the matter.

Between dying at the claws of some vicious monster and risking the open waters… well, he didn’t have to like it, but it was his only option.

Great — not only had he been this close to freedom, now he had to brave open waters.

Gods, this day sucked!

Ace was so distracted by the horrors of the day — and Cato likewise with not crashing while driving about a hundred miles an hour over the speed limit — that neither of them noticed the pack of silver-coated wolves suspiciously tailing them. Nor the fact that the wolves seemed to have no trouble keeping up with one of the faster cars available for purchase on the planet.

_**Meanwhile, on a Greyhound bus out of New York…** _

Luke was deeply shaken and he knew it. Worse still was that Annabeth knew it. She had mentioned as much to him, and it had come as no surprise. She was better at reading people than anyone he had ever met. It wasn’t even close. Hell, it wasn’t even close to being close.

The worst part about all of it was that he wanted to tell her.

She was perhaps his only true friend at Camp Halfblood.

But he couldn’t tell her this.

Not on her first quest.

How could he possibly tell her that the prophecy he’d heard earlier that day seemed to ordain that he would tread a path that would make her shiver in her boots?

_**Earlier that day, in the Big House’s attic…** _

For the second time in his life, Luke stared, transfixed, at the old mummy which contained the spirit of Delphi, Oracle of Apollo, Messenger of Fate, and Speaker of Prophecies.

Dust seemed to cling to the figure, coating it lightly like the first snow of winter.

“I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask.”

With a deep, shuddering breath, Luke spoke. “How do I find Ace Iverson and bring him to Camp Halfblood?”

All dust seemed to vanish at once as if the metaphorical snow had been subjected to the heat of a supernova. The air around him seemed to thicken. Not with tension, but with... something else.

His skin crawled and every hair stood on end as an irrational feeling of dread and terror stopped his heart. Perhaps this was the price for mortals calling upon the forces of what might well be another realm. Everything about the room felt unnatural as the oracle began to move and Luke felt a presence seductively snake its way into his mind before sinisterly hissing the secrets of the future in a cryptic, ominous tongue that he had no hope of truly deciphering before its spoken truths came to pass.

“Fate’s herald shall be found by the oldest of friends,  
His life shall be halted as his goals meet their end.  
His journey’s climax draws near as great forces unite,  
Together with friends, he shall wait in the light.  
The final night comes, cleansing the sins of the past,  
As the fated pawn steps onto his long foresworn path.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **And there it is! The first major (ish) cliffhanger in Fabric of Fate. Fair warning, I take sadistic pleasure in leaving readers on cliffhangers, so it will be far from the last.**
> 
> **In canon, Castor and Pollux — the sons of Dionysus — were never given last names. It would have been odd to have only them referred to without them, so I chose one for them.**
> 
> **In other news, Ace’s godly parent is now in the open. Not that it was ever a mystery, nor was it really meant to be. I had him take a blast of lightning, for Olympus’s sake. Anyway, a lot of other foreshadowing in this chapter for an idea that I don’t think has been used in a PJO fic. Granted, I haven’t read many of them, but I feel as if this would be a trope if it had been.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editor Asmodeus Stahl for their corrections/contributions this week.**
> 
> **A massive thank you is also extended to my first top-tier Patron, Κυρία της φωτιάς, Lily of Dreams, for her generous support on that platform! It really does mean the absolute world to me!**


	10. Strangers in Boston Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Luq707, Athena Hope, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
> **Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. You can do likewise to follow me on Twitter for live updates and to check out my official website.**
> 
> **If you enjoy my work and would like to read all of my chapters weeks/months early, as well as gain access to other, exclusive benefits, I have a P A T R E O N page, which can be used to support me directly. It can also be found on my profile.**
> 
>   
> [ACI100’s Discord Server](https://discord.gg/X6FtTs3)  
> [ACI100’s Twitter](https://twitter.com/ACI_100)  
> [ACI100’s Website](https://aci100.com)

__**November 16, 2004  
A Hotel on the Outskirts of Boston  
8:48 PM**

Andreia was bored.

Being naturally energetic, having a bad case of ADHD, and being bored didn’t go well together.

Not in the slightest.

She spent most of her day locked up in class. She didn’t mind school, in spite of her dyslexia and ADHD. She didn’t love it either, though. She enjoyed the social aspects of it, but she got the same thing from swimming, and that pursuit was a whole lot more enjoyable.

She had been unable to escape the static monotony of her day, even after school had been dismissed. 

She had gone out to the school’s parking lot and swiftly slid into the passenger seat of a vehicle belonging to one of her father’s best friends. He’d driven her to Boston, which was where she and the rest of her teammates now resided — waiting for the meet that would start that very next day.

Sitting in a classroom all day, then driving to Boston and being locked up in a hotel wasn’t doing Andreia any favours. 

She needed to get out.

Some of her teammates had already left, choosing to explore the city. They weren’t really the crowd Andreia got along with, so she had chosen not to accompany them. Now, she was wishing she had.

She sighed deeply as she peered out the window, letting her eyes fall on the churning bay she could make out not far away, just past the shipyard. 

That’s what she needed right now — to be in the water.

It was cold, but Andreia had chosen to swim in colder conditions before. The water wasn’t too turbulent, especially not for the time of year, and she wouldn’t be gone long.

She would make sure the journey was quick and that she was back before the hour became late.

Sneaking out wouldn’t be all that difficult, after all. Nor would sneaking back in, for that matter.

_**Meanwhile, in a speeding Porsche 911...** _

The drive to Boston was relatively quiet. Much more so than either Ace or Cato had expected. Riding motorcycles might have been fun, but Ace was rather appreciative of the luxuries of a car at long last. Especially since the drive from Buffalo to Boston wasn’t exactly short.

Everything had been going so well, right up until they neared their objective.

After examining a map, Cato had indicated a shipping yard and docking station near the outskirts of Boston. It would lead into Quincy Bay, which would lead them to the Canadian province of New Brunswick, in a roundabout way.

Ace was not happy about this.

Ace and water did not mix. They never had, and he told Cato as much. 

The man had adorned an oddly pensive expression. “I don’t doubt it,” he’d said. “I would actually be surprised if you did have a good relationship with water.”

That had surprised Ace a great deal, but he hadn’t commented. Cato was a genius with a whole lot of quirks. Ace had come to terms with that reality. Questioning him would only complicate things even more than they were already. He just wanted to end this journey. It had been fun at times, and he would most certainly be keeping in contact with Cato, but fearing for his life every day was rather tiring. Especially when he’d gotten almost no sleep since leaving Los Angeles almost exactly four days ago now.

Wow… four days.

It felt so much longer and shorter all at once. 

So much had happened that it seemed impossible for it all to be contained in the four days they had spent on the road. On the other hand, they had flown by. Probably because Ace had spent most of the journey with his adrenaline at frankly ridiculously unhealthy levels, which tended to warp one’s perception of time.

He reflected on all of this just as the image of the shipping yard came into view.

Just as everything went hellaciously wrong.

Something lunged from the shadows, seeming to materialize from out of nowhere just as their car drew near.

“Ah, fuck!” Cato cursed, and Ace thought the expletive summed up their current situation quite well.

Something massive had leapt through the air and landed on top of their car. The roof was groaning and slowly giving way, and whatever the thing was seemed to be trying — with at least a small degree of success — to claw its way through the roof. 

“Grab our bags and bail the fuck out when I give the word,” Cato commanded.

Ace’s eyes bulged. “Are you fucking—”

“Do it or die, bubba! Your choice.”

This was stupid.

Most things Ace had done on this journey were stupid, but this bout of absolute idiocy would take the cake.

They were driving at least one-hundred miles an hour. Surely bailing out of the car would kill them? 

Even in the best-case scenario, it would hurt like an absolute bitch.

“Three, two, one — bail!”

Ace listened.

Why the fuck did he listen?

This was such a bad idea — he was going to die.

With lightning-like reflexes, he snatched the bags from the floor — the ones containing their weapons and Cato’s prized flag — threw open the door, and dove.

He didn’t hit the pavement.

Not right away, at least.

His body seemed to gain elevation as he bailed, something that surely should have been impossible. He could hear the screeching rubber of Cato drifting the Porsche 911 straight towards a massive shipping container, but he was too focused on the fact he was about to die to pay much attention. He did see, from the corner of his eye, a body dive from the other seat just as Cato pulled the drift. He also saw the car roll, whatever was on top of it let out a… whine, as the car’s roof met the pavement, crushing the beast instantaneously. Just as he landed — somehow on his feet with only enough momentum to throw him quite harmlessly to the ground — the earth shook with the force of an explosion that left Ace’s ears ringing.

The car had rolled straight into the shipping container. 

Ace was pretty sure that had been Cato’s plan.

To kill the monster on top of their car by any means necessary, as well as hopefully keeping the two of them alive in the process.

What Ace doubted the man had accounted for was the fact that obviously, there had either been explosives or volatile chemicals stored within the shipping container. Whichever case was true, the explosion that accompanied the car’s impact was rather dramatic. Not so grand as the one at the Staples Center, but more so than the one that had lit the Minotaur on fire back in Dallas.

For a terrifying second, Ace’s heart lurched. He hadn’t seen Cato land, nor could he be sure his friend hadn’t been killed by the initial explosion, nor consumed by the small fireball that had quickly spread outwards from the blast’s epicentre.

“Right here, bubba.” Ace actually sagged in relief when he turned to see Cato grinning ear to ear, despite the fact he was in much worse shape than Ace. His elbows were bloody and he unmistakably had a nasty case of road rash. He managed to grin through it all the same. The fact didn’t even seem to bother him.

“What just happened?” Ace asked dazedly.

“Well,” Cato started. “I told you to bail outta the car right before I drifted it into the—”

“No, I got all that. I mean… how are we alive.” He looked down at his own body. “How did I do that? I just… landed on my feet. It barely felt like I hit the ground, but we were going a hundred miles an hour.”

Cato looked contemplative in much the same way he had when he’d confessed to Ace that he would be surprised if he got along well with water. Ace still didn’t know what it meant, nor did he feel particularly inclined to find out.

“I have an idea,” said Cato. “If I’m wrong though, I’m really wrong. Will tell ya when we get a bit of a break, but no time right now. Come on, the docks are right there.”

They truly were, though as Ace approached them, dread closed around his heart as the muscle seemed to put in an admirable effort to beat straight out of his chest. Irrational panic was closing in on all sides, and he hadn’t even noticed that he’d started shaking until Cato rested a firm hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright,” he assured him. “Everything‘ll be fine. Just stay calm and all will be fine.”

That held as they uncovered a boat, got it started and began their journey out into Quincy Bay.

It even lasted until they were about fifty feet from land. Then, the very water around them seemed to explode as something straight from Ace’s nightmares rose toweringly high out of the water, glaring down at the two unsuspecting humans with murderous intent.

Ace froze.

“Ah, fuck!” Cato screamed.

He saw and perceived the monster in front of them, but he could do nothing.

Being confronted by a sea monster in the open water was probably the absolute worst-case scenario for him. He couldn’t imagine anything worse, and his brain just froze.

It barely even noticed what the thing was. Considering its profile, this was saying a lot, as it wasn’t exactly easy to miss.

The kraken loomed terrifyingly over them, its octopus-like tentacles swirling in an angry pattern as its feral jaws snapped viciously. It decidedly wasn’t playing games and just wanted two, easy kills.

It capsized their boat before either of them knew what was happening. Not even Cato could plan quickly enough for the transpiring events, and he fell just as helplessly into the cold, frigid bay as Ace, who didn’t even have the brainpower to scream.

Andreia had seen a lot of things in the water.

In addition to what most people would refer to as normal, she’d seen human-like creatures smiling up at her from out of the waves. She’d seen animals that were supposedly things of myth. She had even seen a man named Triton walking straight into the ocean on at least one occasion. He hadn’t known she had been spying on him after one of their many chats throughout the years, but she had.

Not even a man who could seemingly breathe underwater held a candle to the sight that was in front of her now. It could have been taken straight from a horror film.

The massive, octopus-like monstrosity in the water would have been terrifying enough on its own account. When it effortlessly tipped the lone boat in the bay and reached its tentacles greedily towards its human prey, Andreia screamed and made a split-second decision. It was quite possibly the dumbest thing she had ever done in her life. She had been told before she was too kind, too caring, and too compassionate. Her father had always taken great pride in her heart, but this was taking that to another level.

She also intuitively knew that the moment had come.

The moment she had pondered in her bedroom back in New Bedford almost twenty-four hours ago had arrived. This was the event or the choice that would change her life. She had no idea how she knew that, but it was true, and she had no doubt of it.

The smart thing would be to call 911 immediately and to get the hell out of dodge. 

But Andreia didn’t do the smart thing.

She was the only one who could help the teens who were now completely at the mercy of the monster bearing down upon them.

Andreia had known for years she was special.

She saw things in the water that nobody else could see, and her natural affinity for the element was… unnatural. 

There was no other way to say it.

A mere human couldn’t will themselves to move faster while in the water. A human didn’t wield limited control over the element itself. A human most certainly could not breathe underwater.

Andreia had told no one any of these things, but she could do all of them.

Well, she had told Triton; he was who had first helped her grasp her control over the element, after all. But he’d always known, somehow; even before she told him.

It was this control that gave Andreia the courage to do what her heart was screaming for her to do.

Rush forward towards the water and act. 

The water reacted long before she reached it.

She had always felt a connection to the element that was more than natural but never had she felt as in tune with it as she did now.

As if spurred on by her very emotion, the water reacted without command.

A massive wave materialized from nowhere and surged towards the Kraken, rippling across the water and ruining any calmness the bay had maintained after the appearance of the monster. Water met the monster with such force that the beast reared back, dazed and confused just as another wave slammed into its side, forcing it back away from the thrashing teens.

With a grabbing gesture from Andreia, the boys surged towards land. More accurately, the water dragged them there with abnormal speed.

Or at least it tried.

In the case of the larger of the two, it had no trouble doing this. 

In the case of the smaller and younger of the duo, the water met resistance when one of the kraken’s spiked tentacles wrapped tightly around his leg. For the first time since falling into the water, the boy let out an exclamation of agony and Andreia’s anger pounded in her ears. 

Perhaps she really was too compassionate. 

Seeing others in pain did not sit well with her. Least of all when the boy in question appeared as if he might well be younger than her.

She focused harder than she had ever focused before, taking a deep breath in as she tried to manipulate water in a way she had never thought possible. 

She balled her left hand into a fist and then opened it suddenly. The water seemed to push forcefully against the tentacle around the boy’s leg and its grip faltered, the boy tumbling back into the bay. Andreia brought her other hand down like a starting signal and the water reacted violently. It swirled forcefully around the kraken with the power of a tornado, forming a whirlpool that ever so slowly dragged the monster beneath the surface, flailing and screeching horribly as it went.

The elder of the two boys had surfaced onto the shore now. He was coughing and spluttering badly, but at the same time, he was desperately calling out for the other boy. With a jolt, Andreia realized he was still out in the water. His leg appeared to be useless as a result of the kraken’s attack and he was panicking.

She tried to bend the water to her will again, but it was more difficult now. She felt uncharacteristically exhausted, especially considering how she had been brimming with energy before arriving on the scene. The boy was also thrashing in obvious panic and desperation, which wasn’t making Andreia’s life any easier. 

With the water’s downward pull still minimally in effect, as well as the boy’s bad leg and desperate thrashing, he would drown very soon unless intervention was made.

Andreia set her jaw and ran forwards.

She had wanted to swim, after all.

Ace wasn’t seeing the world around him.

Not that he could; not with the water surging all around him.

He couldn’t breathe and his heart pulsed at dangerous levels as his leg screamed in protest. The searing agony wasn’t lessened by the water, yet nor was it strong enough to snap him from his panic-induced reminiscing.

As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t in Quincy Bay. 

Nor was he even in the United States of America.

He was back home in Canada, and he was three-years-old once more. His stepfather had inadvertently capsized the canoe, sending the both of them roughly tumbling into the water. The river had been calm just moments before, but it now clung to Ace. It felt as if he was being physically grabbed as he was pulled down. He screamed a high-pitched scream as he thrashed and tried to cry out for his stepfather, though his pleas for help were drowned out and distorted by the water swirling malevolently around him.

When arms too soft to be his stepfather’s wrapped around him, he knew that this time, he hadn’t escaped the murderous grasp of the sea. The Reaper had come for him, and it was here to guide him through the veil of death and allow him to experience whatever lay beyond.

That was what he had thought until a blast of cool air slammed into him and his eyes snapped open. His leg was burning and he slammed it into the ground as he thrashed wildly to escape whatever had a hold of him, screaming at the top of his lungs as his leg gave out and his shaking intensified.

He realized several things all at once as two voices could be heard. One was familiar, calling his name from not far away. The other was not, and it seemed to be trying to bring him back to reality as it whispered words he couldn’t quite decipher.

He was in the suburbs of Boston, just outside of Quincy Bay, on his way back to Canada with Cato.

Which also meant he wasn’t dead.

How the fuck wasn’t he dead?

He forced his eyes more tightly shut as he desperately tried to gain control of his breathing. Coaches had preached to him for years the importance of breathing. One’s breath was a catalyst for a great number of things. In many ways, one’s mental state was chief amongst them.

The kraken had risen out of the water and tipped their boat. 

That was about where his memory ended.

He assumed it had grabbed him by the leg at some point. He could feel the cuts all over the limb and he thought he could sense blood oozing from the wounds it had created. The damage ran deeper than the surface though. The muscle didn’t feel right either, though Ace couldn’t immediately place what was wrong with it. He was too busy trying to stop shaking every time he thought of the Kraken.

‘Pull it together,’ he thought viciously, still coughing up water as somebody seemed to rub circles on his back. 

Slowly, with one last, calming breath, his eyes opened and he studied the world around him just as he croaked out the most pressing question on his mind. “What the hell just happened?”

“We got fucked up,” Cato deadpanned helpfully.

Ace rolled his eyes as he clambered to his feet. “No shit,” he muttered, right before nearly falling face-first onto the concrete. His leg had given out as soon as he’d put weight down onto it, and the very muscle screamed in protest as liquid fire seemed to try and consume every tendon as his head swam.

Somebody grabbed him from behind before he could hit the pavement. Not Cato. So… the same person who had pulled him from the bay? Somebody had pulled him from the water, right?

“Moron!” the same person hissed into his ear as they forced him gently back down onto the pavement, head still spinning. 

Ace’s vision came back into focus as he looked up at the new figure. She had broad shoulders, but an athletic build. Her hair was light brown and her eyes were a bluish-green colour. She was completely unfamiliar, but he actually smirked despite everything.

“Nice to meet you too,” he quipped.

Cato’s laughter rang through the silence of the night as the girl just glared down at him, though Ace couldn’t help but feel that she too was amused. 

“Now, let’s try this again,” Ace said, his head marginally more clear than it had been the first time. He was still shaking — something he wasn’t proud of — and his heart was still beating unnaturally fast. Outside of his irrational bit of fear, he now felt normal enough to speak and act cognitively. “What just happened?”

“Whatever the hell that thing was flipped our boat,” Cato supplied. “Then… I have no fucking idea.” He looked speculatively towards the new arrival. “It was almost like you… controlled the water.”

Ace blinked. “That’s… not possible.”

Cato snorted. “With all the shit we’ve been through the last few days, you’re still doubting that something is possible? I sure as hell didn’t think a kraken existed, but here we are.” Ace shivered at the mention of the monster’s name, but peered curiously up towards Andreia.

She all of a sudden looked incredibly sheepish. “You’re not going to spread any of this, right?”

Cato’s laughter rang out once more. “Bubba, if you can control water, I am not trynna piss you off. Especially when you just pulled my ass out of the water.”

“Not exactly like we can throw accusations around right now, either,” Ace muttered. It was true as well. As far as he knew, Cato’s ‘friends’ had yet to deal with the criminal evidence that may or may not have implicated them as potential terrorists who were a bit too obsessed with explosives.

Andreia bit her lip. “I can, yes.” There was a heavy silence during which Ace and Cato were very obviously waiting for her to continue. “I’ve… always been able to. Well, sort of. I had to practice, but I’ve always been able to do it at least a little bit.”

“Fucking hell,” muttered Ace. “Demigods really are a thing, aren’t they?”

Cato nodded pensively. “I think so, yeah.”

Andreia just looked puzzled. “What are you two talking about?”

They exchanged looks. “She did just save us,” Ace pointed out from his seated position. “If she’s affected too, she has the right to know.”

Cato sighed. “Damn you and your godsforsaken nobility.” He turned to Andreia. “We have a lot to explain, but we should probably get him cleaned up. Maybe my arm too, but that’s a lotta blood.” 

It was true. Ace’s pants were stained with it, and he could tell it was still flowing. Perhaps that was why he felt a bit lightheaded.

“I’m fine,” he tried to argue, but the new arrival whose name he still didn’t know hit him lightly on the shoulder.

“You’re not fine, you moron!”

Ace’s lips twitched. It was actually rather nice not just having new people go along with what he said for the hell of it. It was refreshing. The opposite of everything that made him shrug off most of his peers. 

“We don’t have time though,” he argued. “We need to come up with a new plan.”

“Already got one,” countered Cato. “We’re going to Maine, but we need to get your leg at least somewhat fixed up first. Not sure where we’ll do that, but…”

“I have a first aid kit back at the hotel I’m staying at,” Andreia offered quietly. “If there’s muscle or bone damage, I won’t be able to do much, but we can at least deal with the cuts and stuff.”

Cato nodded thoughtfully. “That works, we just need to not get seen.”

“Why?” Andreia asked suspiciously.

“Maybe later,” Cato decided. “Plausible deniability is a wonderful thing.” He looked down at Ace. “Can you stand?” Ace answered yes at the same time Andreia answered no, and the two briefly glared at one another while Cato laughed once more. 

“Let’s see it then?” Andreia’s voice sounded more annoyed than actually challenging, but Ace complied at once. He tried to, at least. 

This time, he didn’t immediately fall towards the pavement, but he did stagger, and he most certainly would have lost his balance. Andreia caught his arm, steadying and levelling him with a more firm glare. “It was rhetorical, dumbass!” she cursed. “I didn’t really mean for you to do it.”

“You told me I couldn’t do something,” Ace gritted out, wincing when his right foot touched the pavement. “I don’t do well with being told I can’t do things.”

“Right,” interrupted Cato, “is your left leg fine?”

“Yeah, the thing didn’t even touch it.”

“Okay, so can you make it to the hotel with a bit of help?” He paused. “How far is the hotel?”

Andreia shrugged. “Five minutes normally... ish.”

“Definitely,” Ace answered at once.

Cato — who had mercifully kept ahold of their bags throughout the entire fiasco — drew out his spear and held it at the ready. Andreia’s eyes widened, but Cato didn’t immediately indulge her curiosity. “Since you kinda have to come with us anyway, can you make sure he doesn’t eat shit along the way?”

“I resent that comment,” Ace muttered, but he hadn’t been given a choice in the matter. This girl… demigod... whatever she was draped his right arm over her shoulders, compensating for the weakness in his right leg. Ace was probably two or so inches taller than her, but their heights were similar enough that it wasn’t awkward. He sighed. “Fine, let’s get going then.”

_**Sometime later…** _

Okay, so Ace’s leg was bad.

He could admit to that.

It was mangled, with much of the top layer of skin having been shredded by the Kraken. There were no cuts that ran as deep as the bone, but a few were particularly nasty. The ones where the thing’s spikes had taken refuge, he imagined.

Having so many deep cuts wasn’t just painful in general, but it also made cleaning them an absolute bitch. Most of them were fine, but the deepest among them stung like hell as Ace winced, sitting in the chair provided in Andreia’s hotel room as his hands clasped so tightly onto the armrests that his knuckles turned white as Andreia carefully cleaned his leg to the best of her ability. Cato had cleaned his own cuts in the bathroom.

It had gone well. Amazingly enough, no monsters burst through Andreia’s hotel room door with the intent to kill everything inside. One of her friends, Katherine, did indeed barge in. When she saw the sight inside, failing to notice what was actually going on at first glance, her eyes practically bugged out of her head. 

“O-oh,” she stammered before Andreia could explain herself. “I… uh… sorry, Andy, I’ll be leaving.”

Andreia looked suitably mortified, but Ace looked amused. He was smirking broadly. “Andy, is it?” he asked. “I don’t think we ever got your name.”

“Technically, it’s Andreia, but I prefer Dreia or Andy.”

“Andreia isn’t so bad of a name.”

“It sounds so… formal.”

His lips twitched again, right before he let out a hiss as another cut was attacked. “Fucking hell… Right, yeah, fair enough, I guess. I can’t say I’ve ever had that problem. The good part about a one-syllable name, I guess.”

“Care to share?”

“Ace. Guy in the bathroom’s Cato.”

“Where are you from?”

Ace laughed. “I’m from Canada and Cato is from Georgia. We’ve known each other for all of four days.”

“Really? You guys seem like you’ve known each other for way longer than that.”

That gave Ace pause. It felt like he had known Cato for a lot longer than that if truth was to be told. Hell, it felt like he’d known him forever. Ace didn’t have a lot of friends, per se. He had a preposterously large number of acquaintances with whom he was friendly, but that didn’t automatically make them friends. Aside from Caleb and Cadmus, he could honestly say Cato felt like probably his closest friend. He had no idea if the man felt the same way, but it did feel like it to Ace.

“It… sort of feels like it,” he admitted slowly.

“Some people just have chemistry, I guess. It’s like those movies where the protagonists are brothers at first sight, you know?”

Ace didn’t; not really. “I’m not the most open person, usually. Most of the time, I’m pretty reserved and tend to make friends slowly.”

“You seem pretty open.”

Ace laughed. “Yeah, well saving somebody’s life is a pretty good way to break the ice. Besides, you’re not exactly shy. That makes it easier. I mean, the first thing you said to me was ‘moron’.” 

And in a warped sort of way, that was exactly why Ace thought he was finding it so easy to talk to her. She was treating him like a human being. She wasn’t fawning over him like most he met tended to do, but she also wasn’t sneering down her nose at him for his post-attack breakdown.

It was… liberating.

Cato had chosen that moment to emerge from the bathroom, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Damn, I really wish I got to see that girl’s reaction when she walked in.”

That pretty much shattered any ice that remained and soon enough, Ace and Cato were explaining, in vague terms, mostly, what they’d been through since leaving Los Angeles. Andy was suitably awed by everything that had transpired. 

“So now you’re going to Maine, right?”

“Yeah, gonna try to cross into Canada from there and see if we get blocked again.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Ace and Cato exchanged a look. “Uh… what?” asked Ace.

“I said I’ll come with you. It’s taken both of you to get this far, and no offence, Ace, but I don’t think you’re gonna be fighting anything off for a while.” He scowled in distaste but surprisingly didn’t argue the point. “It honestly won’t take that long to get you home then come back here. A day of driving, maybe? I don’t compete until the day after tomorrow. I can just tell my coach… I don’t know, something.”

Ace and Cato exchanged looks again. “You’re… sure about this?” Ace asked skeptically. If she was, this girl was far too kind for her own good. It was going to get used against her, one day.

“Yes, I’m sure. I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” Cato decided.

Andreia’s eyebrow rose. “That easy, really?”

“Are you kiddin’? After what you did with the water, we’d be stupid to say no.” Cato frowned. “Need to find another car though.”

“I know where a car dealership is,” Andreia supplied. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it wouldn’t actually be that hard to steal a vehicle.”

“Alright, it really is settled then.”

Now, the three of them were standing across the street from the car dealership in question, discussing final plans as they prepared to steal the vehicle. To his dismay, Ace would be staying on the far side of the road. He could now stand on his own, but he was limping heavily and his leg hurt like hell. If he put too much force down, the limb would buckle. With a great amount of reluctance, he conceded that he would probably slow the other two down.

They were across the street when it all went wrong.

A shadowy figure burst from the alley behind Ace, breathing heavily as he sprinted under the glow of a nearby street light. His dark eyes shone with irrational panic as his chest heaved with the effort of running.

He was maybe three inches taller than Ace, though he looked to be several years older, so that wasn’t too surprising. He was slim and had mostly black hair, though strands of it were brushed back and up into a dirty blonde quiff in the centre of his head. He wore a black sportcoat with the emblem of Chelsea on the right side of his chest. Ace’s eyes were fixated on the football emblem for all of three seconds before a low growl ripped through the air.

Stalking out of the alley was a hulking, dog-like form that Ace knew at once to be a hellhound.

His perception seemed to marginally speed up as he tried to think of a solution, but he realized almost at once he was fucked.

Cato and Andreia were on the other side of the street and would never reach them in time. That wasn’t even considering Andy didn’t have a weapon. Ace was raising his celestial bronze sword, but he was off-balance and already knew he wouldn’t be fast enough. The newcomer seemed to be completely unarmed, and the hellhound chose that exact moment to rest its glowing red eyes on Ace and lunge at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The chapter title is in homage to an original novel titled “Strangers in Boston”. It is written by T.S Mann, though you may know him better as The Sinister Man; author of Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin. It is a fantastic read that I would recommend anybody to check out if they have the spare money. I believe the eBook was around $5.**
> 
> **Sorry for the cliffhanger… not.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editor Asmodeus Stahl for his corrections/contributions this week.**
> 
> **A massive thank you is also extended to my first top-tier Patron, Κυρία της φωτιάς, Lily of Dreams, for her generous support on that platform! An additional shoutout is extended to my Oracle-level Patron, 3CP, for his unwavering support as well. Your guys’ support means the world to me.**


	11. Strangers in Boston Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Luq707, Athena Hope, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
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__**November 16, 2004  
Boston, Massachusetts  
10:53 PM**

Ace thought his perception of time had seemed to speed up when the massive dog had appeared, but the idea was ridiculous. It appeared to lunge far too slowly. Not quite in slow motion, but he could see the angle and he knew exactly where it would impact and how much time he had until then. He wouldn’t have long enough to raise his sword for a killing blow. 

But he would have time to get out of the way if he took the most precise route possible. 

At least, he thought he would.

It turned out he even overcompensated.

He seemed to move with impossible speed as if the very world was allowing it. The hound was now set to miss and Ace raised his sword. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it was a nice-sized gash across the creature’s back. It roared and reared to face him, snarling as it sniffed the air. If this turned into an actual fight, he would lose. Just that one quick movement had almost sent him sprawling, and black spots had danced precariously across his vision. Obviously, his leg was far from healed.

Blaze was watching on in transfixed horror. He was not a fan of dogs. That was putting it very lightly. When one was attacked by one as a child… it left more than physical scars.

But he was also trying to compute what he had just seen.

There was no way the boy had just dodged that.

It shouldn’t have been possible.

The creature crouched and Ace readied his sword but, mercifully, he never had to use it.

With enough time bought, Cato had charged across the street, spear at the ready. He had arrived just as the monster had crouched and with a great lunge, he was atop its back, driving the celestial bronze tip straight through its neck.

This time, it was most definitely a killing blow, and the thing dissolved into what looked like shadows.

“Fuck,” Ace muttered, “this is not my day. That was way too close.”

“Where the hell did it come from?” asked Andreia, now having crossed the street herself. Ace couldn’t help but notice how she looked paler than usual. “It wasn’t there when we left.”

“It was chasing him,” said Ace, gesturing to the new arrival, who was only just now getting his breathing rate down to a manageable level. 

They all looked towards the unknown variable, who took one last, deep breath before opening his dark, intense eyes. “It was chasing me,” he admitted. His voice had a slight accent, but Ace couldn’t place it. It reminded him more of wealth than any particular nationality. “It’s been after me for days. Ever since I got to Boston.”

Ace and Cato exchanged glances. This was suspicious. 

None of them lived in Boston, it would appear.

Andy lived close by, but it still seemed too significant a coincidence.

None of them had ever met anybody like themselves before. People who saw things nobody saw. People who had to fear things nobody else had to fear. 

Yet here were the four of them, all having arrived in Boston within days of each other, all seeming to be special, all seeming to attract more monsters than Ace had thought possible.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, right?” Ace asked Cato.

He nodded. “Yep, this is creepily convenient.”

The new arrival looked confused. “Sorry, but what’s convenient?”

They all exchanged looks before Andreia stepped forward. “Hey, I’m Andy. This is Ace and Cato. Before we tell you anything, what’s your name?” 

The look shared between Ace and Cato this time was one of utter bemusement. Neither of them could imagine trusting so easily. Sure, they had done it in Andy’s case, but that was only because she had quite literally saved their lives. To be that willing to approach an unknown variable was something neither of them could relate to. They were both paranoid, in their own ways.

The boy scowled. “Benedict Lane, unfortunately,” he said through a sigh. “If you’d do me a favour, I’d appreciate being called Blaze.”

If the ostensibly random nickname surprised Andreia, she didn’t show it. “Easy enough. Nice to meet you, Blaze. We should maybe have this conversation somewhere else though. Before something else pops up from out of nowhere.”

“I’m not sure we have time,” said Cato. “We need to get out of Boston. We’re right here; should we not go through with the plan?” 

Ace looked torn and Andreia mildly affronted. “Cato! We can’t just leave him! He has the right to know!” She looked imploringly at Ace. “You agree with me, right?”

Ace didn’t speak at first, examining each of them in turn before slowly nodding. “I agree with you, yes. Nobody should have to deal with what we’ve dealt with without warning. I don’t think it’s the smartest idea to abandon the plan when we’re this close, but I agree he has the right to at least a quick explanation.”

Cato sighed. “Fine, but we shouldn’t do this shit out in the open. As Andy said, I don’t wanna deal with another one of those.”

“Whatever you’re going to tell me, I’m assuming it will explain what the fuck has been going on since I got to Boston?” asked Blaze.

“Maybe,” Cato said. “We have guesses. Fuckin crazy guesses, but guesses. They might be right; it’s hard to say.”

Blaze pondered for a moment before nodding minutely. “Well, it’s a lot better than what I’ve got right now. My stepdad owns property not far away from here. He’s out for the night on business and won’t get back until this morning. Since you just saved my life and everything, I guess I can let you guys come in for a few minutes at least and explain whatever the hell is going on.”

Ace glanced to Cato, who subtly patted his pockets. His message was clear. If Benedict Lane tried to pull anything, he was armed and ready to retaliate. “Alright,” Ace voiced for the group, “lead the way.”

_**Sometime later…** _

Ace was rather surprised by the grand home they were led into.

Blaze’s accent had triggered thoughts of wealth in his mind, but he had pushed them aside. He dressed very casually, and his hairstyle certainly didn’t scream rich kid. Perhaps that was the entire point. Perhaps that was an identity he didn’t want. Ace could sympathize with that if it was true. Wanting to escape a reputation was something he knew very well. Something he could understand.

Explaining it all to Blaze was more complicated than Andy. Andy seemed to have had her own encounters and odd occurrences in the past. Not to say that Blaze hadn’t, but his seemed far less numerous and far less significant.

After a while, he did seem to concede the point. It was hard not to when you had three people sat in front of you, regaling you with stories about things that shouldn’t be at all possible. Stories about things straight out of mythology.

When Ace and Cato finished their tale, as well as Andy’s additions, a long silence stretched between them. “That all seems insane,” Blaze said bluntly.

“Trust me, bubba, we thought the same thing,” Cato assured him. “All fun and games until enough of ‘em try ‘n kill ya.”

Blaze shivered. “That dog… it does sound like something out of the Greek myths.”

“Hellhounds,” Ace supplied. “Monsters that served Hades, in most myths.”

Blaze just shook his head. “This is mental,” he said. “Completely and utterly mental.”

“So you don’t believe us, then?”

“Oh, no, I believe you. I really wish I didn’t, but I do. That doesn’t change the fact it’s mental though.”

Ace’s lips twitched as Cato chuckled darkly. “Nope,” said Ace, “you’ll hear no disagreements from me.”

Blaze just shook his head. “Fucking hell,” he muttered. “Right, so what do I owe you?”

Andreia looked shocked. “Owe us?”

“You saved my life and might have just done it again by explaining all of this.”

“But we didn’t do it to receive something in return.”

Cato looked amused, and Ace too found the dynamic rather intriguing. It actually made sense, in a way. Undoubtedly, Benedict Lane came from a well-off family. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume he had been raised to try and get everything he could out of any given situation.

But business was very give-and-take.

Exchange was the name of the game.

It was highly amusing watching this philosophy contrast with Andreia’s. She seemed too kind for her own good. Ace wasn’t sure who looked more baffled by the opposite’s outlook.

“Well,” Cato started. “We’re not gonna ask for anything specific, but if you know a way of helping us get to Maine, that would be great.”

“Maine?” Blaze’s eyebrows knit together. “My American geography is rubbish, so I’m going to assume Maine leads into Canada?” They all nodded as he began to look contemplative. “I wish I could just drive you all the way there. Problem is, my stepdad would kill me if he came back in the morning and the car was missing. I can probably drive you about halfway, though. I’ll try and leave you off somewhere you might be able to find a vehicle if that works?”

“We’ll take what we can get,” Ace agreed, marvelling at their luck. What he really wanted to do right now was sleep, in all honesty, but he knew that wasn’t an option.

“Hey, Blaze?” Cato asked.

“Yeah?”

“You have a phone here, right?”

“Of course.”

“Can Ace use it?”

Oh… fuck!

He still hadn’t called his mother and stepfather.

God, this was going to be interesting, to say the very least.

Then again, they might very well be asleep.

Blaze’s face grew stony. “Yeah, of course. The phone’s just in the other room there.” He pointed to the room in question as he got to his feet. “I’ll go get the keys. We’ll be ready when you are, Ace.”

It was with a great deal of apprehension that Ace picked up the receiver and dialled the number he knew off by heart. His heart was beating at a level close to when he’d been in mortal peril, but it was for nothing. He reached the voicemail and sighed, but he did at least leave a note. He owed his parents that.

“Hey, Mom, Dad, it’s Ace. I know you’re probably worried sick, but there’s no need to be. I got caught up at the Staples Center. I’m sure you heard about that. Let’s just say I was a bit more involved than I’d like to be, and I’ve been trying to get back home ever since. I was separated from the team and couldn’t really go back to them. Sorry, but I can’t explain it all right now. Just wanted to let you know that I’m in Boston. We couldn’t cross in Buffalo, so we’re going to try and cross back over to Canada in Maine. Hopefully, I’ll be home in the next day or two. 

“Hope everything is going well with you two and that you didn’t assume the worst. I would have called you earlier, but I haven’t exactly been able to get my hands on a phone. Well, guess I should probably call it here. Love you two, bye.”

Ace hung up the receiver with an impassive expression.

He couldn’t explain why, but he had an odd feeling that it wouldn’t be nearly as easy as that.

_**Meanwhile, in a rental car on the freeway…** _

Annabeth hadn’t known Luke could drive. Supposedly, he had gotten his license at some point. Or he had just manipulated the Mist. That was also possible, she supposed.

Their quest had thus far been uneventful, though Annabeth had a distinct impression that fact was about to change.

Despite its relative peace, their journey had been… tense.

Luke and Annabeth had always shared an open dialogue with each other. Neither of them really kept secrets from the other. There was a sort of mutual agreement between the two of them not to pry into the other’s family life before going on the run and arriving at Camp Halfblood, but that was pretty much it. And Luke’s quest… he did get rather twitchy when that came up, but Annabeth had never really tried asking. Perhaps he would tell her if she did, but she hadn’t been overly interested in creating needless tension.

“Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“You never did tell me what the prophecy said.”

There was a long pause.

“No, I guess I never did.”

“Isn’t it… important that I know?”

Luke thought about that. “No clue, actually. If anybody has ever come up with a solid explanation for how prophecies work, I haven’t seen it. Maybe knowing is better, maybe it isn’t. Who knows?”

“Can you tell me? Or, will you tell me?”

Luke sighed. “Seeing as you’re the wisdom goddess’s daughter and all, I suppose it might be best if you know.” He took a deep breath. “Fate’s herald shall be found by the oldest of friends, his life shall be halted as his goals meet their end. His journey’s end draws near as great forces unite. Together with friends, he shall wait in the light.”

Annabeth knew there were two more lines. She knew how prophecies worked. Something about Luke’s demeanour though… she had seen it once before.

In the days after herself, Luke and Thalia had left the home of May Castellan. That didn’t bode well if this was at all similar. Even now, years later, Annabeth had no idea what had sent Luke so deep into his own head. She suspected it to be something concerning his father, but that was the extent of what she could confidently assume. 

If this was anything like that… well, it certainly didn’t speak well for the quest ahead, especially when Annabeth sensed their targets were near.

Yet as the full moon shone brightly down upon them, casting its ethereal light upon the Earth in place of the sun, she couldn’t help but think maybe it truly was best if some things were unknown to her.

_**A few minutes later…** _

Ace and Cato had really been spoiled when it came to cars lately.

Mind you, every vehicle they’d touched since California had been completely and utterly destroyed, but they’d been in some rather nice cars.

The BMW M750Li they were now riding in might not have been a Porsche 911, but it was no slouch in its own right.

Benedict, or Blaze, was driving this time, and Ace wondered whether or not he might have any better luck than he and Cato had been experiencing. He would feel rather guilty if Blaze wound up destroying his father’s car on his account. Not that the man couldn’t afford another one, judging by the extravagant home he owned.

“Any luck with your parents, Ace?” Blaze asked upfront. Cato was sitting shotgun, leaving Ace and Andreia in the back. 

Ace shook his head, though his face was unreadable. “Voicemail.”

“Ah, did you leave a message?”

“I did.” His voice wasn’t impolite, but it also wasn’t particularly open, either. “You said your stepdad’s out on business, right?”

Blaze sighed. “Yeah, won’t be back until the morning. He owns quite a few hospitals and is here for a convention of some kind. I didn’t really ask for details.”

“Must be nice though,” said Cato. “Path’s all laid out for ya. All you have to do is follow it.”

“Oh, I’m not going to work for my father.” Blaze’s voice was rather cool, and Ace definitely detected more than a hint of pride there.

“Other plans?” 

“Yeah. I’ll be going to law school once secondary is done. My goal is to become a lawyer, as you might expect.”

That was admirable, Ace would give him that. A path was laid out bare before him, yet he chose not to take it. He wanted to carve one of his own, and Ace could respect that. And again, he couldn’t help but notice parallels. 

Did every demigod have a reputation to escape? Him, as a pestered prodigy back home. Cato, in a similar vein, just for different reasons. Blaze wanted to step out of the oppressive shadow cast upon him by his father. And Andreia… he wasn’t actually sure. She seemed the least troubled of the four of them, in some aspects. Perhaps it was why she appeared to be by far the most open and sociable of the quartet.

It might explain her heart and empathy, as well. 

Perhaps the world just hadn’t thrown quite enough in her direction to make Andy particularly cynical.

“I can respect that,” said Cato, mirroring Ace’s own thoughts aloud. “Too many people are just happy to sit around and do nothin’ nowadays.”

“That’s true,” Blaze agreed. “A lot of them start alright though. It’s when they get a tiny taste of success that the laziness starts creeping up. I’ve seen it happen with my stepdad’s businesses.”

“That’s good for you though,” Andy pointed out. “You’ll know what to avoid when you get there.”

Blaze nodded, a resolute expression on his face. “Exactly. Hopefully, I can get to the same level as—” Before he could finish, he spotted something in his rearview mirror. “Fuck, that’s not good.”

“What is it?” Ace asked, suddenly alert. He’d been drowsy, but all signs of that state were now gone.

By now, Cato had already checked the mirror and his face was hard. “Check behind us?”

Ace and Andy both craned their necks to look back and Ace whistled. “That is a lot of monsters.”

“Bloody hell,” cursed Blaze. “You guys weren’t kidding, were you?”

“Nah,” said Cato. “If you think this is bad, you should’ve seen the border. That place was swarming with ‘em.”

“Apparently they really don’t like you,” Blaze deadpanned, looking back over his shoulder towards Ace. “Everywhere you go, they just… oh, fuck!” Something massive had run out in front of them and Blaze swerved hard.

At the exact moment he was swerving, a semi-truck just so happened to be coming in at top speed in the opposite lane.

Miraculously, they all survived the collision, though Cato’s shoulder gave off a loud crack as the truck clipped his side of the vehicle. It was merciful the massive vehicle had only clipped theirs, or surely they would have been killed.

As it was, they were still sent off the highway, slamming hard into the ditch between the road and a deep, dark forest.

“Fucking hell,” cursed Blaze. “Everyone alright?” They all confirmed they were. They were varying states of banged up, but the collision hadn’t been nearly as bad as it could have been. 

The car on the other hand… was a bigger problem.

“Oh, fuck!” moaned Blaze. “Oh, I’m finished. When my father sees this…”

“Bubba,” Cato interrupted, “I hate to break it to you, but we got bigger problems. We gotta get the fuck outta this car before all of‘em catch up with us.” 

Blaze paled and immediately unlocked the doors as soon as the point was made. Getting out of a car with a mangled leg wasn’t particularly fun, but Ace managed. “What are we going to do?” asked Andy, glancing around nervously. “We can’t fight all of those?”

“Of course we can’t,” Ace agreed, “so we do the next best thing. We get the hell out of the way, and fast.”

None of them needed to ask where.

The woods just feet away from them appeared vast and they were certainly dense. 

No one needed to be told twice.

Ace made it about ten feet in before his foot snagged on a root, his leg flared with pain, and he nearly ended up on his face. Andreia caught his arm before that could happen, but the damage had been done to his leg. Perhaps it was a good thing she didn’t release her hold on his arm as they walked, even though he would never dare to admit that fact aloud to any living person, interested or otherwise. 

They could hear footsteps behind them all the way. Twigs snapping and leaves being rustled. They could only assume the monsters were hot on their tail. This was rather confusing, as the sounds didn’t seem loud enough to be the battalion of beasts that they had seen on the highway.

But it wasn’t exactly like it could be much else.

That was exactly what all of them thought until they entered a large clearing. 

Unlike the rest of the forest, the dense foliage present in most of the wooded area did not obscure the light of the moon, which beamed freely down upon them, bathing them all in bright, silvery light.

It also bathed exactly what was tailing them, and Ace realized with a jolt they were in more trouble than he’d thought.

“Down!” he called, having been the first to catch a true glimpse of their pursuers.

All of his companions complied without complaint, though Andreia, still attached to his arm, hardly had a choice. He threw himself to the forest floor with so much force that she was dragged with him, whether she wanted to be or not. 

The unmistakable sound of gunshots filled the clearing, though none of the bullets found their mark. 

Cato was back on his feet in a second, and he was armed just as quickly.

‘Huh,’ Ace thought. ‘Maybe it was actually a good idea to bring that AR15.’

Cato’s assault rifle sprayed bullets back towards the large men in leather jackets who had followed them into the clearing.

They reacted quickly, though several of them did fall. One took a bullet to the leg, one took several to the arm, while another took a direct shot to the sternum, and a fifth took a bullet straight through the heart.

For however well-armed Cato might have been, there were far more of them than there were of him.

One resounding gunshot rang through the clearing and Cato screamed as the bullet pierced his calf and he went down hard. Ace’s eyes flashed towards the gun that had fallen from his friend’s grasp, but a raspy voice cut in before he could make any sort of move towards it.

“Any of ya move towards that weapon and all of ya get a fuckin’ bullet through your skulls.”

Ace froze. He recognized that voice.

The man whom the bouncer had called over in Dallas before leading him to the back.

Which meant…

Oh… fuck!

“Thought you’d just run away from the Hells Angels, ya little shit,” the man snarled, kneeling in front of Ace and pressing the barrel of the gun up against his head. 

He tried to respond but couldn’t. His body had frozen.

All of the bravado you might have when talking about what you would do with a gun pressed to your skull is all fun and games at the time. If one actually found themself in a situation where you’re one move away from near-certain death, one tended to be a lot less daring than they might have expected.

Ace didn’t say a word, he couldn’t.

“Now,” the biker said gruffly, “give me everything you got on the Daemons of Erebus or I’ll cave your fucking skull in.”

Oh, this had to be a fucking joke.

He actually thought the Daemons of Erebus was a biker gang. After their dastardly escape and Cato’s daring war cry, he probably even thought they were a rival to the Hells Angels.

Oh, this was not good.

For all of Cato’s brilliance, he hadn’t thought that one through and by god, had it come back to bite them in the ass in the most meaningful way imaginable.

“Talk, boy!”

Ace swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep, centring breath. He could hear Andy crying softly to his side, and it was that, in part, that gave him the strength to answer the question. 

“There’s nothing to tell you, sir.”

“Boy, if you fuckin’ lie to me again.”

“Sir, I swear, this has all been a massive misunder—” The man drew back his fist and slammed it hard into Ace’s nose. He felt his nose seem to retract into his skull before forcefully popping back out at the same time that blood sprayed everywhere. If that wasn’t enough, the biker had brought the but of the gun up hard into his jaw, shattering several of his teeth and filling his mouth with blood as well.

“I won’t ask again!” he snarled.

All fear had left Ace now.

Now, he was only three things.

Determined to save his friends, deathly defiant, and preposterously pissed off.

“Fuck off and go to hell.” Before the man could retaliate, Ace spat the largest clump of blood he could manage right into the biker’s face and prepared to die.

But the fatal blow didn’t come.

The underbrush exploded as motion made itself obvious on all sides.

Wolves and humans alike were bounding into the clearing. The wolves were unnaturally large and their coats shone silver, their eyes gleaming in the luminescent moonlight.

Behind them was what appeared to be a group of teenage girls, all of whom were carrying silver bows and arrows. 

The Hells Angels whirled around, guns drawn. Before they could be fired, the single most miraculous thing Ace had ever seen take place happened, though he could barely see it at all through the haze of agony that was currently his existence.

Just before they could release their ammunition, the guns… vanished.

No, that wasn’t quite right.

Each and every single one of the guns belonging to a member of the infamous Hells Angels MC morphed into a different species of bird. As one, they all took to the air, leaving a thoroughly confused group of MC members behind.

“What the f—” 

“That will be enough out of you, I think.”

Something about that voice sent a chill down Ace’s spine, and he really hoped whoever had spoken was on their side and not just against everyone in the clearing.

The voice seemed to come from one of the girls. One that looked to be in her very late teens, maybe even twenty or twenty-one. She was of average height and had a lithe sort of build. Come to think of it, every girl in the clearing, except one or two, had that same build, though this girl was different. Her pale skin seemed to glow as her pure silver eyes shone unnaturally bright, and the moonlight streaming down from above made her auburn hair look all the more vivid.

“You have all done enough injustice tonight, I think,” the girl decided. “I have no use for you and more important matters to attend to. Be gone.” The girl waved her hand, and Ace’s brain almost short-circuited with shock.

Where the men had stood before, in their place were numerous small, rather terrified-looking chipmunks that immediately scampered away.

The clearing was quiet for all of three seconds before the silvery-eyed girl started walking towards Ace’s prone form. Andreia moved at once, shakily putting herself between the two of them, her posture defensive. 

“What do you want?” she asked. Her voice quivered, but it was stronger than Ace’s probably would have been, given the circumstances.

The girl — or young woman — smiled. “Fear not, child. I mean no harm. I merely wanted a word with Mister Iverson.” Gently, the girl pushed past Andreia and knelt in front of Ace. Before he could resist, her cool, soft hand cupped his chin and forced him to look up into her eyes. She tutted. “That won’t do, now will it?” Her hand seemed to grow warm and Ace’s jaw might have fallen from his face had she not been holding it in place.

The blood vanished from his face as his teeth just… grew back. 

God, that had felt weird; growing back teeth in a matter of seconds.

His nose cracked rather painfully, but he knew at once it too had been healed. 

“There.” The woman stepped back and gestured for Ace to get to his feet. “Much better. Rise, child.” Something in her voice made Ace instinctively obey, ignoring the searing pain that shot up his leg. Luckily, Andreia moved immediately to stabilize him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **“Much better.” For the first time, Ace noticed the look of interest on her face. “Now, I think it’s time for you and your friends to get cleaned up. We shall do this quickly for my time is short, and we need to have a chat, Ace Iverson.”**
> 
> **“W-we do?”**
> 
> **She smiled a soft smile. “Oh yes, little brother, we do indeed.”**
> 
> **Wow… that last scene took on a life of its own.**
> 
> **I don’t foresee FoF being particularly dark. Especially not compared to Ashes of Chaos, but it will certainly have its moments. If it makes anyone feel better, this will probably be the darkest moment in season 1, so there’s that.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editor Asmodeus Stahl for his corrections/contributions this week!**
> 
> **A massive thank you is also extended to my first top-tier Patron, Κυρία της φωτιάς, Lily of Dreams, for her generous support on that platform! An additional shoutout is extended to my Oracle-level Patron, 3CP, for his unwavering support as well. Your guys’ support means the world to me.**


	12. The Veil of Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Luq707, Athena Hope, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
> **Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. You can do likewise to follow me on Twitter for live updates and to check out my official website.**
> 
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__**November 17, 2004  
A Forest Just Outside of Boston  
12:11 AM**

Ace’s mind blanked.

Little brother?

He didn’t have any sisters. His mother had only ever borne one child, which had obviously been him.

Unless…

“Fucking hell,” Ace remembered muttering after Andy had fought off the Kraken. “Demigods really are a thing, aren’t they?”

It hadn’t just been him, either.

Cato had believed so, and Ace’s mind was brought forcefully back to the night he and Cato had left Los Angeles. The night they’d first spoken on their suspicions in regards to Greek mythology. 

“If these monsters are really the same as the ones from the myths, do you think other things from the myths could be true as well?”

“Maybe. Can’t really say one way or the other. The Greeks could’ve just come up with the gods and heroes and stuff to explain how people managed to kill these things. Or maybe it’s all real. I have no idea, but I have a weird feeling we’re going to find out.”

It seemed the time to find out had arrived.

This woman could only be one thing, as far as Ace was concerned.

She radiated a quiet sort of power that none of the monsters he’d met had even come close to matching. The way she had just waved her hand and casually morphed several humans to animals… no, that couldn’t possibly be in the capability of a normal monster.

Which meant…

Oh, fuck, the implications of this.

If she was a goddess, that meant that his and Cato’s assessment of demigods must be true. He certainly wasn’t a god, so there was no other way for the two of them to be related — unless he were a demigod. Ignoring all the implications of that train of thought for a moment, Ace began connecting dots, rapidly flipping through his mental catalogue of important people in Ancient Greece.

It didn’t take long.

A woman who could turn men into chipmunks with the wave of her hand. One who just so happened to lead a band of teenage girls, all of whom appeared to be armed with silver bows and arrows. 

There was only one goddess who fit that description.

Artemis — Goddess of the Moon, the Wilderness, and the Hunt.

Which meant…

No, that wasn’t possible.

“L-little brother?”

Artemis, for it could be nobody else, just smiled indulgently at him. “Indeed. That is one of several things the two of us need to discuss. Now follow me, if you would be so kind.” 

It was phrased politely, but Ace knew it to be an order. If this woman was who he suspected, he also knew refusing that order would be complete and total idiocy.

One of the hunters tried to follow them. She was around Ace’s height with skin the colour of copper. Her delicate features were framed by long, dark hair that fell down her back, and a shining, silver circlet gleamed atop her head. Her skin seemed to glow, appearing similar to the goddess that stood before them, but to a lesser extent. Artemis looked as though she was made from moonlight, where this girl and the rest of the hunters appeared as if they’d bathed in it.

“Your presence isn’t going to be required, Zoë.”

The girl, Zoë, blinked. “M’lady?”

“This is a simple matter that would frankly bore you. Besides, I have a task of utmost importance I would like for you to see through to its completion.”

Zoë seemed to straighten, now standing at attention like a soldier. “Yes, m’lady?”

“Take a group of our best combatants and patrol the outskirts of the area. Keep any monsters well away. I can feel them being drawn to us as we speak. They are little bother to us, but they may well chase away the demigods currently searching for our friends here.”

Zoë bowed her head. “As you wish, m’lady.” 

She shot Ace an odd look before departing, and he decided at once he didn’t like her. It was the same look he had received from bigoted teachers for years now. The same, judging look those who had assumed him to be some idiot jock gave him before the start of their first lessons. In his experience, those teachers always turned out to be judgemental pricks. That was the category he immediately filed this Zoë girl into.

“Come.” Artemis’s voice brought him out of his stupor and he obeyed, limping heavily after her. “You mustn't judge Zoë too harshly for her behaviour,” the goddess prefaced as they walked out of the main clearing, taking a path that led slightly deeper into the forest. “She has a murky past with male heroes, and you, unfortunately, fall into that grouping.”

“Hero?” Ace asked, confused, feeling his anxiety rise as they walked into a darker region of the woods. “I haven’t done anything to be called a hero. All I’ve done is run across America like a chicken with its head cut off. It’s hardly heroic; probably makes me look like a right idiot, from a third-person point of view.”

Artemis laughed softly. It sounded oddly like the gentle jingling of bells. “It was certainly amusing, at times.” She fixed him with her silver-eyed stare. “At other times, it has been very impressive. Before you fought the monstrosity in Dallas, only Theseus could boast of having slain the Minotaur. Your aerial acrobatics in Philadelphia were also impressive, in their own sort of way. And the term ‘hero’ is a loose one. It can be used to refer to almost any demigod.”

“Uh… thanks, I guess.”

Artemis seemed to realize exactly how tense he was. Her eyes seemed to be x-raying him. He doubted whether or not he had ever been watched so intently in all of his life. “You look nervous.”

He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. “A bit.”

“What is it that has you on edge? Is it the last number of days you’ve gone through? Is it walking into the depths of a forest in the middle of the night, not knowing if a monster might lunge around the corner at any moment?” Ace winced at that reminder, but Artemis only smiled. “If it’s the latter, fear not, for no monster shall harm you whilst you are with me.” She paused. “If it’s me you fear, then you are wasting your energy on needless paranoia. I will not harm you. Our father would not appreciate it, and you have given me no real reason to feel any ill will towards you.”

That was surprisingly open. It seemed to be, at least. There was, of course, the possibility that Artemis was manipulating him, but he somehow didn’t think so. 

Her lips twitched. “I am usually honest with those who have not wronged me. Manipulation has its uses, but it isn’t my forte. You will want to watch out for your other sister, in regards to manipulation.” Ace wondered if he could have subtly dissed the goddess of wisdom and gotten away with it. 

Somehow, he suspected not.

“Our father?” Ace asked carefully, putting in a truly monumental effort at not giving away any bit of his true emotion. “So you’re… you’re actually telling me that…that—”

“That your father is Zeus? God of the Sky, Defeater of Kronos, and King of the Gods. Yes, that is exactly what I am telling you.”

Cato didn’t remember passing out.

The last thing he remembered was seeing a man fall to his gunfire, feeling a split-second of shock, and then hearing a particularly loud gunshot. Then flaming agony in his leg; agony that had not yet entirely receded, but that was mostly gone now.

So he had been shot… huh, that was a new one.

He’d been stabbed before, but never shot.

Stabbed on a couple of occasions, actually.

Long story short, don’t go to Utah and piss off the Mormons. They are kind people, but vengeful as fuck if you piss them off. Cato subconsciously rubbed his right shoulder at the thought, remembering the gaping wound one particular knife had left behind.

But he wasn’t in Utah.

Where was he, again?

They had fought a Kraken, met Andreia, he’d killed a hellhound, they’d met Blaze, trashed another car — gods, they had destroyed a lot of cars — and then he’d been shot. The Hells Angels had shown up somewhere in there, but it was all a bit murky.

Boston… no, that wasn’t right. They were somewhere outside of Boston…

Wait a minute!

Hells Angels!

“Oh, fuck no!” Cato exclaimed defiantly, bolting upright and reaching for his gun. 

Fuck this! He wasn’t going to let them hurt his friends. Ace, Andy, and Blaze were counting on him. He wasn’t going to…

“Huh,” he said confusedly, looking around the dimly-lit... wherever he now resided. “Where the fuck am I and what the fuck just happened?”

Cato heard soft laughter coming from somewhere nearby, and his head quickly swivelled to the source of the sound.

It appeared as though he was in a small log cabin with little furnishings to speak of. Somehow, that didn’t feel right. Cato had no idea how he would have gotten to a log cabin. There certainly hadn’t been one in the clearing, and he doubted one existed anywhere in the woods they had stumbled into. It also just didn’t feel… natural. 

A girl was standing near what he presumed to be the exit as if she was on guard. She had a large, silver bow and was dressed in a silvery uniform. She was tall and pale, with black hair that fell just past her shoulder blades. Her facial features were regal; well-defined jaw, delicate features, full lips, and odd, bluish-silver eyes. Cato found himself oddly drawn to those eyes as if they were magnetic, but he didn’t let any of it distract him from the myriad of pressing questions at hand.

“Awake, are we?” She sounded amused as she took a few steps towards him. She was still close enough to the exit to guard, but she was also now close enough to Cato for them to hold a proper conversation.

“Same questions,” Cato said pointedly. “Where the fuck am I and what the fuck just happened?”

The girl laughed again. “Not going to be distracted, huh? Alright then. You’re in a bed, at the moment.”

Cato grit his teeth together. “More specifically?”

“You’re in a bed, in an enchanted tent, in the centre of a forest just outside of Boston.”

So they were still in the woods then. That probably meant Cato hadn’t been out for too long. 

But too long was a very vague classification.

Especially considering he and his friends had been in mortal peril when he’d succumbed to the blackness that had rapidly closed in on all sides.

“Okay… and what happened? The Hells Angels showed up, and I got shot. What happened to my friends? Are they alive? Are they also here? Are they getting treatment? Who are you? You’re not with the Angels, so how’d you…” his eyes seemed to widen as he eyed the silvery bow and uniform. “Oh fuck! Are you… are you a hunter? Is it Artemis then? Did she save Ace, or some shit, since I’m pretty sure they’re half-brother and sister? Is this a campsite set up by the Hunters, did you deal with the—”

“Holy shit!” the huntress exclaimed. “Good god, I thought my mind was insane. Slow the fuck down!” 

Cato would have laughed had the situation been different. As it was, he managed a weak smile. “Sorry, my brain just works that way sometimes.”

“Alright,” the girl muttered, “from the beginning then. Your friends are fine. Two of them are getting minor bruises and whatnot patched up. The Hells Angels were dealt with by our patron goddess, who does just so happen to be Artemis.” The glee shining in Cato’s eyes was practically manic, but the huntress didn’t comment on it.

“She dealt with the Hells Angels and we set up camp. She is speaking with the demigod named Ace at this exact moment.” She paused, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “I was also under the impression you wouldn’t know of demigods, nor how the world truly worked.”

“Oh, I don’t,” Cato said dismissively. “I just figured shit out along the way. Once Ace told me about summoning lightning, I was suspicious as fuck. Then he jumped straight over the Minotaur and did the crazy-ass vault in the mansion. I would have never thrown him the spear if I wasn’t already suspicious. The water thing just confirmed it. Zeus and Poseidon didn’t usually get along, so…” He shrugged, smirking at the completely awestruck expression on the huntress’s face. 

“Wasn’t really that hard to figure out. Was gonna tell him when we got a minute, but I needed something more obvious to happen to prove demigods existed first. That happened when Andy showed up, but I haven’t had a chance to really talk with Ace since, so…”

“Good gods,” the huntress muttered. “My mind is literally supposed to be specialized towards somewhat controlled chaos, and you make me look like a normal soccer mom.”

“Oh, bubba, you ain’t never seen chaos like me.” He smirked. “Controlled chaos, huh? Lemme guess; daughter of Dionysus?”

The girl just gaped, then shook her head. “You know what? Nope. I’m done being surprised. This is dumb. Nobody should be able to figure all of this out in a few days and be so casual about it. Let alone figure out someone’s godly parent after they hear one line.”

Cato grinned like a child on Christmas morning. “I’m special.”

The huntress muttered something under her breath that Cato thought might have been “No shit”.

“So, Artemis is really out there?”

“Yes, she’s with your friend. If you haven’t figured everything in existence out yet, I’ll explain how the Greek and mortal worlds tie together, since I’m sure all your other friends are getting the same lecture.”

Cato nodded. “Sounds good to me. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Emily,” the girl said, freeing one of her hands from its place resting on her bow and extending it to Cato, who was still seated in the bed. 

“Nice to meet ya, Emily.” Cato suddenly froze, a look of abject horror marring his face. “Fuck!” 

Emily blinked at the sudden change of pace. “Um… what?”

“Ace… that little fucker!”

“Huh?”

“He gets to talk to Artemis before I do! Just because he’s the son of Zeus, or whatever the fuck the reason is! Fuck!” he cursed again. “This is such bullshit!”

Emily couldn’t help it. Her composure fell apart completely as she descended into peals of laughter.

Ace’s brain nearly short-circuited. “I’m the son of… Zeus?”

“Yes.”

“What have I stumbled into?”

Artemis laughed softly once more. “More than you could have ever imagined, I suspect.” She stared at Ace for a moment. “You seem to be taking this rather well. Perhaps a bit skeptical, but you don’t seem unwilling to believe.”

Ace laughed hollowly. Truthfully, he felt numb. None of this made sense, but all of it made sense at the same time. The way the wind had bent and directed the horn into the Minotaur’s neck. The way he always seemed to land softly on the ground when doing stupid dives that should have left him crippled. 

Hell, even the lightning bolt. 

Maybe there really was logic to getting struck by a fucking bolt of lightning.

God, the world was weird.

Or should it be gods?

He didn’t know.

“It… lines up with other things, and that’s not even talking about the fact we’ve spent the last four days being chased across the country by monsters straight out of Greek mythology.”

“You are very logical; I appreciate that quality. You are open-minded and willing to believe, as long as the belief is supported by logic. Yet you are not gullible. It is a healthy balance I encourage you to maintain.”

“It hasn’t helped me a whole lot, though,” Ace said bitterly. “I’m still stuck in America.”

Artemis suddenly looked rather sad. “And here is where I break some painful news to you.”

Ace’s heart sank. “What is it?”

“You might always be stuck in America.” She held up a hand to forestall Ace’s inevitable interjection. “Physically, you could return home to your mother and her husband, but it would be ill-advised and put them in danger.”

“Why?”

“Demigods are powerful beings. They do not operate on the same plain as mortals, yet they are not quite immortal either. Their power and lack of immortality make them an ideal target for monsters, many of which are the manifestation of Tartarus’s cruelty. You’re a perfect target. The more powerful the demigod, the more monsters you attract. Being a son of Zeus, you rest comfortably atop that totem pole of power.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Ace countered.

Artemis rose a brow. “Does it not?”

“No, it doesn’t. I had almost nothing like this happen while growing up. I had a run-in with a cyclops, but that was it. A bunch of strange things happened around me, but they never had anything to do with monsters.”

“You are observant and a good listener, but you lack the context to make such definitive statements. There are two reasons you have had minimal interactions with monsters thus far. The simplest of them is that a demigod is usually left alone as a child. They usually aren’t important enough to truly draw the attention of monsters. Being a son of Zeus, you still should have dealt with a fair few, but there is another factor. Something known as the Flame of the West.”

Ace blinked. “The… what now?”

“The Flame of the West. It is the term assigned to the natural shift of power within the world. In the old times, the gods called Ancient Greece home, for it was the heart of the mortal world. The epitome of culture and the definition of influence. When Greece fell, the Flame of the West moved to Rome, so us gods followed. We have always resided in the area of the world that is the most influential, for it is there we belong. It is among the places we will be at our strongest, and it is where our influence is most needed.

“Nowadays, we’re here— in the United States of America. Us being here means a great number of things. One of those things is that the vast majority of the demigod population resides in America. Not all of them, mind you. Yourself and Mister Lane are probably the two most notable exceptions, though there are others. A lot of the time, they never even realize they are demigods due to the fact I am about to explain.

“I have told you already monsters seek out demigods. With the vast population of them being in America, that is where most of the world’s monsters reside.” She paused. “A fair few still call Greece and Rome their home, but most others are here, in America. Like demigods, some reside in other parts of the world, but their numbers are limited and they are usually less bold.

“This is why you did not experience the trials of your heritage. The same can be said for Mister Lane. Living in Canada, you were largely spared, simply because there weren’t enough monsters nearby you to notice. 

“But that is now over. You have stepped foot in America and crossed most of the country. By now, I would not be at all surprised if every monster in the nation has caught your scent. Now that they are aware of your existence, these beasts will never let you rest. It is the duty of demigods and organizations like mine all around the world to keep monsters under control, in large part because said monsters will always hunt demigods. You, in particular, as a son of Zeus will never be able to live a normal life again. You could return to Canada, but doing so would put yourself and your loved ones unnecessarily in harm’s way.”

Ace was numb again.

He didn’t know how to cope with that revelation, so he clamped down as tightly on his emotions as he could. Best not to let them get in the way, at the moment. He had been told before this was unhealthy, but he didn’t particularly care. At the moment, it appeared as though he had far more pressing matters at hand than that of his health.

“So… I’ll never see my mother and stepfather again?”

“That isn’t what I’m saying. I’m sure you will see them again. There are ways of communication in our world that would allow it, and I’m not telling you to never return home. What I am saying is that right now, with no training and no experience, it would be suicidal for you to do so. I doubt it will be wise at any point in the future, but for now, it would be incredibly foolish. Especially as your guardians may never see the beasts coming.”

“There’s a reason for it, then? A reason why every time a monster has shown up, all the people around us have just completely ignored it?”

“The Mist,” Artemis enlightened. “It is a force that is so quintessentially old and powerful that it lives and breathes all around us. It is the highest level of magic. A veil of reality that obscures the horrible truth from the eyes of the mortals, revealing the world’s atrocities to only those who are worthy and able to cope with them.”

That… was a lot to take in.

“I’m going to assume since everything else in this world now seems to be taken straight out of some children’s fantasy novel that magic does more than just create this… Mist?”

“Magic is nearly limitless, though it is wielded by very few. Even the children of Hekete have limited control over the force. Very few true sorcerers and sorceresses remain. Funnily enough, the two most prominent ones who remain just so happen to be on island prisons. More ironically still, one plays prison guard while the other plays inmate.” 

Artemis’s voice sounded rather bitter near the end, and a small part of Ace wanted to inquire further. He didn’t though. He wasn’t sure now was the time to learn of what was powerful enough to imprison somebody who could control magic. He had been through enough already, and he suspected it wasn’t done yet.

“With so few alive who can shape the force of magic, it flows naturally, maintaining the order it has sought to keep in check for so long.” She frowned. “It does do some unnatural things that are less helpful as well. It is what allowed you to fight the Minotaur, after all.”

“What? But I wasn’t using—”

“No, no,” Artemis waved her hand dismissively. “It’s what allowed the fight to take place in the first place. I told you earlier that you were the second demigod to kill the beast, did I not?”

Ace nodded but still looked puzzled until a look of dawning comprehension slowly replaced the puzzlement. “How did I not think of that?” he muttered, completely annoyed with his own stupidity. 

Artemis smiled thinly. “I think you had enough to deal with, at the time. Now, back to the matter at hand.”

Blaze and Andy’s injuries, minor as they were, had been patched up very quickly. The two of them had been left to sit on a pair of stumps and wait for Ace to return from his conversation with a goddess.

“This is mental,” Blaze muttered for the hundredth time. They’d been given a brief crash course about demigods, the truths of the mortal world, and even a brief intro to Camp Halfblood. Blaze felt incredibly awed whilst Andy felt incredibly stupid.

The surfer that had pulled her out of the water all those years ago, the same one that had subtly helped her hone her powers… his name had been Triton, for fuck’s sake.

Yet she had never connected the dots.

She wondered if that had something to do with the “Mist” that they’d been told about, or whether she was just an absolute blockhead.

Whether she was a moron or not, she never decided.

Before she could, the sound of footsteps drew near, and she and Blaze exchanged brief glances, expecting the lead huntress and her companions to return.

They didn’t.

Two figures stepped through the underbrush, and neither Blaze nor Andreia recognized either of them.

Both of them were quite tall. The girl, despite looking closer to Ace’s age, was at least as tall as Blaze, with blonde hair and stormy grey eyes. The guy beside her was probably an inch or two taller than Cato, and lean but well-muscled. He had dark blue eyes, rugged features marred partially by a long, jagged scar and short-cropped, sandy blonde hair.

Before either Andy or Blaze could react, the girl spoke, freezing them both in place with the implications of her words.

“Where is Ace Iverson?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The season I title has finally dropped.**
> 
> **I thought it fitting since season I is ultimately a tale of enlightenment for Ace, Blaze, Cato and Andy. In many ways, the veil of reality is being pulled aside, revealing the truths of the world to them before the true events of the series begin.**
> 
> **I thought it was quite poetic, and it also doesn’t hurt that it sounds incredibly ominous and dramatic, in my completely unbiased opinion.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editor Asmodeus Stahl for his corrections/contributions this week.**
> 
> **A massive thank you is also extended to my first top-tier Patron, Κυρία της φωτιάς, Lily of Dreams, for her generous support on that platform! An additional shoutout is extended to my Oracle-level Patron, 3CP, for his unwavering support as well. Your guys’ support means the world to me.**
> 
> **PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, January 31st, 2020.**


	13. Murmurs in the Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Luq707, Athena Hope, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
> **Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. You can do likewise to follow me on Twitter for live updates and to check out my official website.**
> 
> **If you enjoy my work and would like to read all of my chapters weeks/months early, as well as gain access to other, exclusive benefits, I have a P A T R E O N page, which can be used to support me directly. It can also be found on my profile.**
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_**November 17, 2004  
A Forest Just Outside of Boston  
12:36 AM** _

“What do you want with him?” asked Andy, immediately straightening her posture and squaring off against the much-taller girl. She was lean and athletic-looking with long blonde hair and stormy grey eyes. Blaze was rather taken aback with how swiftly Andreia leapt to the defence of a boy she had known for merely a few hours, but he didn’t say anything. He was looking towards the other, sandy-haired boy who looked to be a number of years older than his female counterpart.

“We’re here to take him to Camp Halfblood,” the blonde said, examining Andreia and Blaze with a critical eye. 

“Who are you?” Blaze asked warily, casting his eyes from the blonde girl to the sandy-haired boy that had drawn much of his earlier attention.

“I’m Luke Castellan,” the boy said, stepping forward with a posture that indicated he was completely at ease. “Son of Hermes and one of the counsellors at Camp Halfblood.” 

Blaze immediately disliked him simply for his casual air of dismissive confidence. It was as if he thought none of them could trouble him in any way, shape or form. 

Of course, there was a good chance he was completely correct in that assumption, but that was beside the point. 

“Luke,” the other girl said patiently, “they might not know what Camp Halfblood is. Not unless they’ve been told by the Hunters.”

“We have,” said Andy, eyes rising to meet the new girl’s with intense curiosity. “Are you both from camp?”

“We are. I’m Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena. I’m another one of the camp counselors. We’ve come to take Ace Iverson to Camp Halfblood.”

“Why him?” asked Blaze, suspicion still heavy in his voice. 

“You don’t know?” Luke queried. The still-present surprise only made Blaze like him less.

“He’s rather important,” Annabeth said with the same amount of patience she’d spoken with earlier. “Children of Zeus, Poseidon and Hades aren’t common and they can cause… problems.”

“So you want to control him?”

“We want to make sure he doesn’t get killed,” Luke corrected. “Children of the three sons of Kronos… they’re more powerful than normal demigods. Problem is, they also tend to attract a lot more attention. It’s important he gets to Camp Halfblood. Not only for his own safety, but because his father commanded it. Annabeth and I were sent out on a quest. Our goal is to take him back to camp with us.”

“And what about the rest of us?” 

“Our objective is Iverson,” said Luke, his posture unwavering. “If we can afford to take more, we’ll take more. Now,” he continued, “where is he?”

“About ten feet away from you.” 

Luke spun and immediately caught sight of the boy he had been seeking, with an auburn-haired girl appearing to be in her late teens a step or two in front of him. The boy’s sky-blue eyes were hard but blank. Luke couldn’t tell much from them other than that he was being evaluated very closely. They were also alert, which matched the boy’s tense posture, though his gleaming, bronze sword was held in a lazy position. 

“Now that you have me,” said Ace, “what is it exactly you want? I’m afraid I only caught the end of that conversation. Something about an objective?”

“Our objective is to take you safely to Camp Halfblood,” said Annabeth. 

“And the others?” 

Annabeth and Luke exchanged glances, though Ace thought he noticed Blaze giving him a subtle nod. “Our quest is to get you safely to camp,” said Luke. “We can try and help some others, but we can’t do anything to jeopardize our goal.”

“They’re coming.” The forcefulness with which Ace spoke took both Luke and Annabeth aback. “If they want to come, they’re coming. Otherwise, I’m going nowhere with you.”

“They can come,” said Annabeth. “We just want to make sure we finish our quest. Disastrous things tend to happen when demigods don’t finish quests.” Luke’s eye twitched, which immediately caught Ace’s attention, but the older boy gave away no more.

“When will we leave?” asked Andy, glancing at the campsite sprawled around them, one that had been constructed in a time so short it should have been impossible.

“In the morning,” Luke answered. “No need to chance it tonight. Monsters aren’t afraid of the light, but they prefer to attack at night when possible. There’s no need to give them any sort of advantages. If we want to make it to camp, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“We’ll camp here for the night then?” asked Andy.

“We won’t be staying the night,” Artemis said with a nod in the direction of the tents.

All present knew exactly who she was despite her seemingly mundane appearance. Of course, Ace had just spoken with her, and Blaze and Andreia had watched her casually dispatch the Hells Angels. Luke and Annabeth, meanwhile, had met up with the Hunters on their own journey to Camp Halfblood years earlier.

“Our goal was to find Ace Iverson and Cato Anders before they blew up half the country trying to survive. We have other places we need to be in short order, and we rested earlier in the day. We will stay long enough to ensure that you are all on track, but then we must leave.”

“That’s fine; we have our own supplies.” Ace couldn’t help but notice that Luke’s voice sounded oddly clipped, though he wasn't sure why that might have been the case. It was as if Artemis had said something to offend him.

It did nothing to increase Ace’s trust in him, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“How do I know that I can trust you?” 

Annabeth and Luke exchanged wary glances. “You were clearly willing to trust others,” Luke pointed out. “They also didn’t have the blessing of your father—”

“A father who has never spoken to me,” Ace said coolly, but he didn’t reject the point. Not after his conversation with Artemis in the forest that had only ended minutes ago. “And trusting the others was different. Cato just sort of happened, and I really didn’t have any choice. I was dead if I didn’t trust him, so I just took the chance. If he turned out to be some crazy kidnapper… well, I would have died anyway. Andreia pulled me out of Quincy Bay and fought off a kraken, and Blaze…” 

Ace still didn’t entirely trust Blaze, but he trusted him enough to wearily grant him acceptance, which was more than he could say for Luke or Annabeth. The latter was far too calculating. If she was indeed trustworthy, it would be a good trait, but it made it more difficult for Ace to place that trust in her to begin with. People who were that clinical always had their own motives. It wasn’t terribly different from how Ace went about life, so he knew the fact from first-hand experience.

And Luke… he wasn’t entirely sure. He just got an odd vibe from Luke, one that he couldn’t entirely place. The closest comparable he could come up with were the people who had pretended to be his friend long enough to benefit in school, but the feeling he got from Luke wasn’t quite that. There was just something about him that put Ace on edge.

“You must go with them,” said Artemis. “It is imperative you reach Camp Halfblood. These are two of the most well-trained demigods in the world, and their help is your best hope of doing so safely.”

Ace pondered whether or not to argue with a goddess, contemplating the risk in citing the exorbitant number of idiotic mistakes and betrayals the Olympians had been subject to according to the myths. He was so lost in thought that he almost missed the obvious sign of movement from the corner of his eye. 

One of the nearest tent entrances had opened and Cato Anders limped out. He was putting most of his weight on one leg, but he was moving exceptionally well for a man who had just been shot. His eyes were locked on Artemis, and there was something within them Ace had never seen before. 

“We’re goin’,” he said, stepping up beside Ace and rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder before he could argue. 

Andy reluctantly nodded, and Blaze glanced to Ace, who shrugged. Without the support of Cato and Andreia, arguing with a goddess would be fruitless.

“Sorry, bubba,” Cato muttered as they moved off to set up their own tent. “I gotta watch out for myself on this one. I’ll explain a bit later.” He glared at Ace as if the younger boy had just thrown his mother down several flights of stairs. “And you broke the bro code. Not cool, bubba; not cool at all.”

The Hunters didn’t stay a whole lot longer. Once they realized Ace and the others had capitulated and were willingly going to head to Camp Halfblood with Annabeth and Luke, their work for the night was done. They did provide Andy and Blaze with silver knives before departing, which was a vast improvement over them having no weapons at all, though Ace wasn’t sure what good they would do if they faced something like the Minotaur again. Many of the monsters they had encountered so far weren’t exactly what you wanted to battle in close-range combat, especially since Ace didn’t think either Blaze nor Andreia were properly trained in fighting with a knife.

Cato’s leg was on the mend after whatever the hell the Hunters had done to it, but they hadn’t quite gotten to Ace before they had departed. That meant he spent quite some time after the tent had been erected sitting on the floor whilst the girl — Annabeth — properly cleaned the cuts, wrapped his leg, and gave him what she called nectar and ambrosia.

The atmosphere in the tent was extremely tense for the duration of the process. All of them were scattered across its interior — which was far larger than it had any right to be when viewed from the outside. The only conversation going on at all was very light, very cautious back and forth between Ace and Annabeth, the latter of whom had been doing her best to get through to the former. Ace acknowledged the advances and responded in a very modulated manner, but it was clear both of them were doing their best to psycho-analyze the other. Ace wouldn’t have been at all surprised if Cato was doing the same from the sidelines.

Actually, he would have been more than a little bit surprised had his lunatic of a friend not been doing exactly that.

There hadn’t been enough sleeping bags for all of them, but the Hunters had fortunately been able to spare a few. It wasn’t long after Ace’s leg had been tended to that plans for the night were laid out. Luke and Annabeth would rotate watches, doing so on a four-hour cycle. Luke would take the first watch, Annabeth the second. As soon as the latter period of four hours had elapsed, they were leaving. Luke had pulled the SUV they had apparently been using deeper into the forest, so it was now quite near their tent. No one posed any objections to the plan, so it had gone forth.

Ace found out very quickly that he couldn’t sleep. 

That was hardly abnormal, as sleep was a right pain for him in the best of times. Now that he knew the Ancient Greek gods were real, he really ought to kick Morpheus in the dick if he was ever presented the opportunity. He had a naturally curious and active mind, and the ADHD only compounded the problem. It really just made the rabbit hole his brain frequently went down even deeper. It was like its sides were practically slicked with oil, for it was almost impossible to climb out of once his brain had taken the plunge.

After all that had occurred in the past hours and days, it really came as no surprise when Ace couldn’t sleep. He was intensely uncomfortable putting his trust in anyone who he didn’t have at least a decent read on. Cato had been an odd sort of exception, but there was something about him that ingratiated him to Ace faster than most. Neither Annabeth nor Luke had that quality, and Blaze was teetering on the edge of being trustworthy, in Ace’s opinion. 

He didn’t think the boy meant to do anything malicious, but he wasn’t entirely sure how he might react if turning his back on them was seen as the more beneficial option. His father was apparently quite the businessman. Success in that particular venture usually came on the condition that the benefactor was not only sharp and observant, but almost unconditionally ruthless.

After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, Ace finally laid still and opened up his senses. He listened for sounds of anything that might be misconstrued as those of rest, but might actually be those of waking. He couldn’t glean anything through sound or hearing alone, but he had a feeling he wasn’t the only one awake, and he had a feeling who the other person was.

Sitting up, sliding quietly out of his sleeping bag and glancing around the tent, Ace could see pretty quickly that his suspicion was indeed correct. Cato was the person closest to him, with Annabeth on his other side and several feet away. Ace scooted himself closer to Cato, who slowly lifted his head. His eyes were indeed still alert, and he slid himself into a sitting position, allowing Ace to take a seat next to him.

“Crazy day, huh?” asked Cato in a low whisper.

Ace would have snorted had he not wanted to make any sounds that might wake the others. “You’re the most extreme person I know, and now you suddenly have a talent for understatements. Somehow, that seems wrong.”

Cato visibly fought a smirk. “Hey, I can be both. I’m extreme; extremely good at understatements, in this case.”

“If you say so.” A beat of silence, and then: “What happened earlier?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you first came out of the tent. I’m guessing you overheard our conversation, but you agreed way too easily. I’m not going to pretend I know you perfectly by any means, but I think I know you well enough to realize that was very out of character.”

Cato sighed. “We are real similar, do ya know that?”

“In some ways, yeah,” Ace answered. “Not so much in others, but I can sort of see what you mean.”

“We think a lot like each other sometimes. I know I tend to resort to blowin’ shit up, but our outlooks on life and philosophy are kinda similar. We practice the same kinds of ideas, from what I can tell. We might just approach solving them a bit differently. Even then though, we’ll do it in a way that won’t backfire on us later.”

“That’s… accurate, yeah.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised you figured out that somethin’ was happening. It was a bit weird, I guess.”

“So...”

“You remember when we talked about the gods on the way to Dallas? After you woke up from your first nap of the trip?”

Ace nodded, flashing back to one of his first real conversations with the lovable maniac that was Cato Anders.

_**The Past**  
November 13, 2004  
In Cato’s Truck on the Way to Dallas  
9:14 AM _

The 1989 Chevrolet S10 rolled smoothly down the highway, the early morning November light shining through the windows as the drone of the old engine made itself known. 

In the passenger’s seat, Ace was stretching his sore and slightly cramped muscles as a wide yawn took its own turn in stretching out his face. 

“Mornin’,” greeted Cato, giving him a nod before refocusing his attention back on the road in front of him. “How’d ya sleep?”

Ace rolled his shoulders and neck, which omitted several loud cracks of protest. “Could have been better, could have been worse. So alright, I guess.”

“Good,” said Cato, nodding once more.

“How are you holding up? You’ve been driving all night. If you need to stop somewhere, that’s fine.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Just a bit tired, but nothin’ I can’t handle. Besides, we’ll be stoppin’ later today in Dallas. We shouldn’t stop twice in a day. It would slow us down and give more things time to catch up with us.”

“You really don’t think the Laestrygonians or whatever they were will be the last monster from the myths to come after us, do you?”

“Nah. I wish I did, but I’d be lyin’. Hopefully nothin’ too crazy comes after us. The last thing we would need is a chimera or somethin’.” Ace gulped. That would indeed be disastrous, and it would almost definitely result in a very painful death. 

“I guess I’ll just pray to the Greek gods that may or may not exist that a chimera doesn’t find us.”

“I’ve been thinking about that a bit.”

“About chimeras?”

“Nah, about the gods.”

The night before, Cato had been rather noncommittal. He had made some good points about both human nature and religion in general, but he hadn’t been willing to draw a decisive conclusion. “Anything to add from last night?”

“Not really. Just a bunch of theories I have no proof about.”

Ace stared at him. “If I held a gun to your head right now—”

“I’d break your—”

“Shut up and let me finish!” Despite the bite in his voice, Ace was smiling. Cato’s eyes too danced with amusement but he just nodded, prompting Ace to finish. “If I held a gun to your head right now and asked if you think the gods are real, what would you say?”

“Well, I’mma just assume you don’t want an answer that involves me ripping the gun outta your hand and shootin’ you with it?”

“Preferably.”

“I guess I’d tell ya I think they’re probably real, but that I might be wrong.” His expression turned wistful. “I hope they’re real. I do love me some Artemis.”

“Uh… what?”

Cato laughed. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t like Artemis?”

“I uh… never said I didn’t, but I can’t say I’ve really thought of it like that. What is it that makes you like her so much?”

“Loyalty,” Cato answered without a second’s hesitation. “She dedicated herself to her cause and stuck to it. She would do anything for the girls she took under her wing, and I admire that.” A devilish smile spread across his face. “And in a lot of old art, she’s a redhead. I love me some redheads.”

Ace shook his head dazedly, not entirely used to the oddities of Cato Anders quite yet.

_**Back in the present…** _

“Don’t tell me you snubbed me over some dream girl?” Ace mocked, leering at Cato, who just shook his head.

“Nah, just gainin’ her loyalty and takin’ her word. Artemis ain’t usually one of the gods who went around lyin’ about everything in the myths. Some things, but not all of ‘em. I don’t think she was lyin’, so I took her word for it. Hopefully, she’ll remember that.” Cato gave him a hard look. “Are you telling me you don’t want a goddess on our side?”

“All I’m telling you is that you broke the bro code.”

“Nah, fuck you, bubba!” hissed Cato, glaring at Ace with the same expression he had worn earlier that night. “Nah, nah, nah. Fuck you and your bro code. You wanna talk to me about bro codes after you were the first one to talk to Artemis?” He crossed his arms, looking genuinely hurt. “After all we talked and what I said, you were the one to talk to her first.”

“You are as petulant as an eight-year-old child.”

“I’ll make ya scream like an eight-year-old child in a sec.”

“I dare you to try.”

The two of them glared at each other for about ten seconds before their shared charade fell apart and they both devolved into peels of quiet laughter. 

After about a minute had elapsed, Ace glanced carefully around the tent before lowering his voice again. “I get why you did it, but I still don’t trust them.”

“I know,” said Cato. “I don’t either, but it ain’t nothin’ we can’t handle.”

“Cato, they’re trained demigods. Artemis herself said they were some of the best in the world.”

“Yeah, well I only know of one demigod before you showed up that killed the Minotaur, and guess fucking what? You killed the Minotaur, didn’t you?” Ace reluctantly nodded. Seeing this reluctance, Cato placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, trust me. Nothing’s gonna happen. You and I’ll keep an eye out. If we see anything suspicious, we act. We don’t wait, we don’t let them strike first. Anything suspicious happens, we cut down the threat before it can do anything. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

Cato smirked. “Good. We can’t ever let nothing happen to the other,” Cato said proudly, gently tapping the gauze that was covering his mostly healed bullet wound. “Daemons of Erebus for life. Ain’t nobody gonna fuck with that.”

Despite himself, Ace grinned before lying down a few minutes later and finally drifting off to sleep, followed soon after by his older friend and, somehow, brother in all but blood.

In the sleeping bag to Ace’s right, grey eyes watched the two of them drift off intently, a calculating air about them as Annabeth Chase pondered all she had seen and heard and thought about how best to proceed going forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **We are really getting near the end of season 1 now, and I’m excited for you all to see how it plays out!**
> 
> **Sorry for the short chapter, the next few aren’t quite as short, though the final one of the season likely won’t be long by any means.**
> 
> **Oh well, onward we trot!**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editor Asmodeus Stahl for his corrections/contributions this week.**
> 
> **A massive thank you is also extended to my first top-tier Patron, Κυρία της φωτιάς, Lily of Dreams, for her generous support on that platform! An additional shoutout is extended to my Oracle-level Patron, 3CP, for his unwavering support as well. Your guys’ support means the world to me.**
> 
> **PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, February 7th, 2021.**


	14. Race to the Finish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Luq707, Athena Hope, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
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_**November 17, 2004  
Parts Unknown  
6:48 AM** _

For the second time in his life, Ace found himself — or his consciousness, more than likely — standing in a dark, mysterious, cave-like place. The same ominous, endless chasm he had seen in his previous vision stretched imposingly in the centre of wherever he now resided.

This time, it seemed slightly different.

During the last dream, whatever had been inside that chasm was desperate. It had seemed single-minded in its goal to escape by any means necessary; even if those means involved dragging someone towards the abyss in an effort to pull itself out. Never mind the fact that, if this thing was of the scale it felt like to Ace, that never would have worked in the first place. 

It had been emotionally driven and irrational; similar to a child trying to bend the world to their devices.

This time, it was different.

Ace could feel the imposing presence stirring deep within the endless pit, but he sensed none of the destructive urgency that had been prevalent the last time he had stood in this cave. This time, he felt far more from the creature than just desperation and malevolent power. He felt a shocking amount of cunning and intelligence, and the being’s new awareness terrified Ace much more than its previous incarnation.

“We meet at last.” 

The voice seemed to speak inside Ace’s head. It was more thought than actual sound, but the impression was there. The voice, or impression of a voice, sounded inhuman. It was a rasping, scraping sort of noise, like two metallic substances clanking roughly together in a cacophony of ear-piercing sounds.

Yet it was somehow discernible, and its horrid sound did nothing to detract from the irrational dread swelling in Ace’s stomach; wrenching at his intestines and causing his heart to beat faster as he looked anywhere but at the massive pit in front of him. 

There actually was an exit, at least from this particular sector of wherever the hell they were. It was a dark, narrow tunnel leading away from the pit, but Ace couldn’t move towards it. He tried to make himself turn but he couldn’t. His body felt frozen, as if his limbs had been filled with liquid nitrogen that was then solidified, and it forced him into static submission.

Even his vocal cords seemed nullified. He tried to speak, but couldn’t. The only thing that seemed to be allowed freedom of motion were his eyes, which darted around the cave-like place like those of a caged animal looking for a desperate escape from a cruel state of captivity.

“You know not what is going on,” the voice reverberated in Ace’s skull, seeming to echo through his very thoughts. “Soon, that will change. Months from now, you will learn what is happening. When you do, a choice will be presented to you. I am here to educate you on that choice.

“We are at the precipice of a revolution, Ace Iverson. A revolution that has been quietly building for millennia, and a revolution you will play a large part in, whether you like it or not.” The voice paused and seemed to speak its next words with a mixture of bitterness and anticipation. “A revolution against the pitiful foundations that your society so firmly rests upon.

“Think about the world in these next few months. Think about what it is — and isn’t — and all that is wrong with it. Think about all the horrible things humans have done in the names of gods. Think about the way the all-powerful immortals who lord over your world have stood by and done nothing. How they have watched atrocities, wars and genocides without so much as blinking.

“But those are wide-scale applications that your young mind may fail to grasp. So allow me to personalize things for you. 

“What have the gods ever done for you? Your father is supposed to be the greatest among them, yet even he left your mother to raise you alone. He left you to your own devices, even as you fought your way across a nation in constant peril with no semblance of training. He stood by and watched your hardships because he is a _coward_ — as are the rest of the Olympian gods. They stand by and watch the world burn because they have not the vision nor the courage to change it. They have stagnated, and they see no way forward, nor do they have the ambition to take necessary risks. They are too attached to their powers and would never dare risk them, even if it dooms millions of people a year to fates worse than death itself.

“And those who serve them aren’t much better. You and Anders said it well. You don’t trust these people. Annabeth Chase and Luke Castellan have spent years being indoctrinated to the Olympians’ way of doing things, as well as the pathetic systems, traditions and beliefs they hold so dear. 

“Yet you felt you couldn’t trust them, and I am here to tell you that you were indeed correct. They are no different than those you grew up with. The only thing separating them from those pathetic mortals is that they view themselves on some sort of moral pedestal via association with the gods they worship for all that they pretend to do. They will use you, just as others have, just as you feared so many others would. Nothing will change for you in this new world. You will not escape expectations, reputations, or manipulations. They will only worsen, for you are the son of Zeus and will be the gods’ golden child until they see fit for your disposal, at which point you will be cast aside with the carelessness of a child discarding his broken toy.

“Think upon this. All you wish to escape from will worsen, and the world itself will continue to rot and decay under the Olympians’ rule. If changes are made, both of those things may well be avoided. 

“Think, Ace Iverson, before the choice comes. But for now… wake!”

Ace jolted upright with a gasp fitting for a man escaping near death via drowning. His heart was putting in an admirable effort at beating straight out of his chest, and a thin layer of sweat clung to him like precipitation on the outside of a bottle. His fists had obviously been clenched, for his knuckles were the same colour as a sheet of paper. He also noticed he was shaking; far more than he could ever remember shaking before, sans the occasion during which Andy had pulled him out of Quincy Bay.

“Bad dreams?”

Ace’s head snapped up to look at the blonde girl standing over him. Her grey eyes were surveying him intensely, and the way they seemed to be able to pierce deeper than just his skin did not immediately inspire confidence.

“You… could say that, yeah.”

“If it helps, it’s not uncommon for demigods. I would actually be more surprised if you hadn’t ever had vivid dreams.” Her stare intensified. “What was it you were dreaming about that has you so disgruntled?”

“That’s… a very personal question.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but demigod’s dreams aren’t always just dreams. We’ve been known to have actual visions from time to time. Usually, it’s a result of some sort of divine intervention.”

“I’m pretty confident no god showed me that dream.”

It was true... for the most part. He doubted any of the Olympians would whisper such dark propaganda in his ear. Perhaps Hades, if he was like some of the darker stories spoke about him, but Ace somehow wasn’t sure about that. It didn’t seem right. Why would Hades be speaking to him from the bottom of a pit? A pit that, in a previous vision, the captive of had obviously wanted to escape from above all other things.

Ace had the distinct impression Annabeth wasn’t fooled, but he had no particular reason for the train of thought. Her face stayed completely blank as she nodded. 

“We’re leaving as soon as everyone’s ready. It will be a long trip to Camp Halfblood. We want to make sure we’re on the road early, just in case everything goes to Hades.”

Ace glanced around and realized he was the last one in the tent. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he promised, though his eyes didn’t stop suspiciously following Annabeth as she made her exit from the tent. 

Despite himself, the words from his dream replayed in his mind, mostly about Luke and Annabeth.

_“They will use you, just as others have, and just how you feared so many others would. Nothing will change for you in this new world. You will not escape expectations, reputations, or manipulations. They will only worsen…”_

_**About four hours later…** _

The sun had long since risen by the time the van carrying the most important demigod cargo in the world began to draw near to the Whitestone bridge. Up ahead, all in the vehicle could see it, stretching far out over the East River that laid far below. The water seemed surprisingly calm for this time of year, sparkling prettily in the strong rays streaming down from the sky far above.

That water dominated much of their sight and peripheral vision as the bridge drew closer. The land on either side of them was fairly rural and generic.

As for what was going on inside the van, there really hadn’t been much to tell until this moment in time. Ace, Cato, Blaze, and Andy had been reluctant to engage in conversation. Blaze had been borderline standoffish to Luke, though not as much to Annabeth.

Speaking of, the grey-eyed girl had tried to spark conversation on a number of occasions, though she hadn’t had much success. The only one she had somewhat been able to draw in was Andy, and Blaze on occasion. She was too difficult to read for Ace’s liking. Annabeth had the blank look mastered even better than he did, and there was an amount of intelligence in those eyes that he found a bit disturbing. 

As a general rule, he tended not to trust people who had a significant mental edge on him. Cato had been an exception, but he hadn’t exactly had much choice but to trust him. Since he had made that decision, his brother in all but blood had proven himself to be one of the most trustworthy people Ace had ever met.

Cato was also much less closed off than Annabeth, which helped. 

All the conversations she tried to start were probing. Attempting to piece more about the group together while giving away nothing about herself. 

“Where’s Camp Halfblood, anyway?” asked Andy with interest. “I know you said it’s near Long Island Sound, but whereabouts?”

“It’s near Wildwood,” said Annabeth. “It’s a fairly major state park. It’s not exactly in Wildwood, but right around it. The Mist obscures it.”

“The what?” asked Blaze.

“Mist,” answered Ace. “It’s a sort of magical force that stops normal people from seeing all of the ridiculous things we have to deal with.”

“How in the flyin’ fuck did ya know that?” asked Cato. Ace couldn’t decide if he sounded more annoyed or impressed, but he had a feeling the former would take over with his explanation.

“Artemis. She told me about it when we had our talk in the woods last night. She called it the veil of reality.”

“That’s about right,” said Luke. “It’s crazy what mortals will miss when it’s right in front of their faces. I’d never bet on its power, but don’t underestimate it, either.”

“Demigods have never really worked out its exact limits,” continued Annabeth, “but it’s exceptionally powerful. The Athena cabin has had quite a few discussions about it. Most of us believe that the entire point is that there aren’t set limits. It’ll sort of determine its potency based on the situation.”

“Well, it is magic, isn’t it?” Annabeth nodded in answer to Andy’s question. “Well, if it’s magic, it doesn’t really need to have limits, right? Isn’t the entire point of magic to do things that can’t be done otherwise? If so, that’s not logical at all.”

“Magic is… complicated, but that’s a pretty good summary, yes.” 

Annabeth looked annoyed, and Ace immediately pegged her as a control freak, of sorts. Not in a bad way, per se. He could just tell she was one of those people who needed to know everything about any topic she was even a little bit interested in. Ace could understand, at least a bit. He was like that in a lot of regards, just not to what he viewed as the same extent.

Ace glanced out the van’s window and had to shield his eyes against the harsh glare of the sun off of the water.

Which only made him jump even more at what happened next.

Luke’s “What the fuck!” was the only warning he got. Before he could even look forward, the car careened to the side, and Ace could only liken the feeling to what he had felt when Cato’s truck had gone over the barricade back in Dallas.

A monster larger and more immense than any they had faced so far had appeared in front of them. It seemed to have just popped right up in the shadow created by the car in front of them, and their van slammed into it at top speed.

Their tires screeched as Luke tried to wrestle back control of the vehicle to no avail. The van spun off the road and went careening into the ditch nearby — mercifully not sliding all the way down into the river far below. Idly, Ace wondered what the hell was going on with his and Cato's track record with vehicles. It seemed as if every vehicle they touched died a fiery death.

“Everybody out!” Luke’s voice jolted all of them, and they were out of the van not a second too early.

A massive shape soared through the sky, landing on top of and flattening the vehicle they had ridden in.

Ace felt the blood drain from his face when he saw what the monster was. 

He had never seen anything like it — though that didn’t mean he failed to recognize it. On the contrary, he recognized it just fine.

It was a black mastiff… if black mastiffs made elephants look like week-old puppies. 

Oh, and if they had three heads… that was a relatively important detail.

Three heads with glowing red eyes; each pair of them fixed unblinkingly on their would-be prey.

“Fuck,” muttered Ace. “It’s Cerberus.”

He felt a tumult of emotions — most of them centring around worry — but Cato seemed far less concerned.

“You fuckin’ sack of shit!” Cato's spear was held at the ready as he glared at Cerberus. Ace supposed Cato had a point in insisting they all keep their celestial bronze weapons on them when they got into the van. “My fuckin’ flag was in that van!”

Cerberus growled menacingly, but Cato just brandished his spear. 

“You want some of this?” he challenged. “You ain’t nothin’ but an overgrown flea-ridden fuckin’ coonhound that can’t find no coons!”

Ace stood in slack-jawed awe at Cato’s challenge, as did the others. What surprised absolutely no one was that the beast standing before them did not seem at all impressed.

With an ear-splitting bark, the thing lunged. 

The demigods scattered. Cato rushed the thing, spear in hand, and Ace made what was probably the single dumbest decision of his life.

He followed Cato, sword in hand. 

They tried to fight the monster for all of ten seconds before they realized how hopelessly outmatched they were.

“Ace! Cato!” It was Annabeth’s voice, and Ace nodded to show he heard her. He assumed Cato did likewise. Neither of them could look at her — nor at each other — for they were rather busy not dying, at that moment. “Get to the bridge!”

Cato paused for just a second, a look of realization settling on his face. That second’s pause was almost long enough for Cerberus to swat him with his paw, but Ace lunged, tackling him out of the way at the last possible second.

Both boys hit the ground rolling and came up to their feet at once. Their friends and acquaintances were waiting for them on the bridge now, which Ace and Cato approached at a flat sprint. 

Ace was steadily pulling away from Cato, who he realized would die at any second. The gap between him and the monster was closing too quickly. By Ace’s estimation, he wouldn’t make it to the bridge either; not unless Cerberus took the time to play with his food.

But the latter point was moot. He refused to let Cato die.

He remembered Quincy Bay once more, but not the parts of the expedition that would haunt his dreams for years to come. He remembered the way Andreia had manipulated the water, and the way the three of them had vaguely discussed demigods’ powers in the moments following that feat.

He thought about himself and his father. Zeus was the King of the Gods and the God of the Sky. Anything that fell in his domain should feasibly be within Ace’s capabilities to control. That was admittedly judging off of one precedent, but it was the only thing he had resembling a set of rules for something like this. When dealing with things utterly illogical, those very things were often impossible to quantify, so Ace thought this was the best he would be able to do.

The problem was going to be learning to do it on the fly.

As he ran, the world seemed to slow. Not noticeably, but in much the same way as it had when the hellhound had lunged at him outside the car dealership in Boston. Just enough to allow him an infinitesimally small amount of extra time to work out what he needed to do.

The wind howled all around them as it came to life. It did so without warning, seeming to cackle at its newfound freedom as it tore across the land in wholly unnatural ways.

Ace and Cato both suddenly felt as though they were being propelled forward, which was exactly what was happening. Ace had imagined the wind on their backs, pushing them forward with as much force as the element of air could muster without causing large-scale damage or taking them off their feet. 

The difficult part of the trick had been doing that while using wind from the other side to push against Cerberus while not impeding the two of them.

It had been very tricky and Ace was shocked he had managed it at all. He could feel the drain almost at once, but he kept running.

His feet hit the bridge a few seconds before Cato’s and, for a moment in time, he thought Cato still hadn’t made it.

He had, but only just.

Before Ace could realize that, a horrible roar emanated from behind them and Ace felt more strain than ever as Cerberus simply leapt through the wall of wind, soared straight over both them and the rest of their friends, and landed on the bridge.

Ace thanked the gods as the bridge collapsed underneath the monster, sending it plummeting into the river below with loud, dog-like whines.

A moment of complete silence followed the thing’s fall.

“Fuckin’ fleabag piece of shit,” cursed Cato. “That’s what ya get for destroyin’ my guns and flags!” He clapped Ace on the shoulder. “Bubba, I’ve never loved another person so much in my life. The shit with the Minotaur was cool and all, but that was awesome!”

“I hate to interrupt,” said Luke, “but we now need a way to camp that doesn’t involve driving across this bridge.” He gestured to the massive hole in the bridge between them and its far side. 

“We should also get out of here before the police or whoever shows up,” advised Blaze.

“Well,” said Annabeth, “looks like we have a few bus rides and a lot of walking ahead of us.”

Ace and Cato exchanged looks. Being semi-wanted criminals would probably complicate the bus part, but it wasn’t as though they had any choice. 

Hopefully, they would go unnoticed.

__**November 18, 2004  
Halfblood Hill   
2:21 AM**

Mercifully, none of them were noticed on the several short bus rides they took that day. Ace actually wished it had been more, as they had done an absurd amount of walking. Thirteen hours, to be exact. He was all for physical activity, but it was a lot of mileage in a day, especially considering his leg which — while much better — still wasn’t fully healed.

Thank the gods, their journey had been quiet — almost disturbingly so. Annabeth had commented, rather nervously, how unusual that was on multiple occasions. According to both her and Luke, they should have been getting swarmed with monsters just based on the size of their procession. That wasn’t even taking into account the fact that one of them was a son of Zeus. 

That information checked out with what Artemis had told Ace, so he couldn’t figure out why the remainder of their journey was so easy. Annabeth had hypothesized Hades himself had sent Cerberus, which could perhaps explain it? Maybe he had been sending all the monsters after Ace and Cato and he’d just given up.

Ace thought that for a time… right up until the moment they neared Halfblood Hill. At which point he realized all of the monsters had simply chosen to set up an ambush.

“Oh… fuck,” he breathed. “That… is a _lot_ of monsters.”

Standing on the hill, not far from them, was a herd of monsters larger than any that they had ever seen. They blanketed the entire hill, all of them leering at the approaching demigods and obviously ready to impede their journey as they readied to attack.

“Di Immortales,” breathed Annabeth. “All three Furies and more monsters than I’ve ever seen.”

“We’re fucked,” moaned Blaze, obviously wracked with the despair which accompanied their current predicament.

Luke snarled as he readied his sword. “No,” he hissed. “I won’t fail twice and if I do, I’ll die in the attempt.” He glared around at all of them. “Keep Iverson safe at all costs. He’s our number one priority, no matter what.” They all nodded. “Well,” he said with a twisted smile, “good luck.”

And then, the monsters charged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Four more chapters left to go for season 1, but this next one will really be the climax. The three following it will be coming down from the season’s peak point. Please note that all seasons will be posted under this one story! I will not be publishing different books for each season.**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **A massive thank you is also extended to my first top-tier Patron, Κυρία της φωτιάς, Lily of Dreams, for her generous support on that platform! It continues to boggle my mind each and every day, and it is something for which I will be forever grateful!**
> 
> **PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, February 14th, 2021.**


	15. Cleansing the Sins of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Luq707, Athena Hope, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
> **Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. You can do likewise to follow me on Twitter for live updates and to check out my official website.**
> 
> **If you enjoy my work and would like to read all of my chapters weeks/months early, as well as gain access to other, exclusive benefits, I have a P A T R E O N page, which can be used to support me directly. It can also be found on my profile.**
> 
>   
> [ACI100’s Discord Server](https://discord.gg/X6FtTs3)  
> [ACI100’s Twitter](https://twitter.com/ACI_100)  
> [ACI100’s Website](https://aci100.com)

_**November 18, 2004  
Halfblood Hill  
2:21 AM** _

The sky above Long Island Sound was clear and tranquil. The moon was just one day past being full and it cast a considerable amount of light upon the earth below. The sky was starkly velvet, giving the impression of peace and safety to all in the area.

Except for the six teenage demigods who stood at the base of Halfblood Hill, all of whom were now bracing themselves as a massive horde of monsters charged towards them.

A battle was set to commence under this cloudless sky. A battle that could change the course of everything. A battle that could stain the autumn leaves red if everything were to go wrong; rendering the potentially gory ground an abrupt juxtaposition to the serene sky above.

Of the six gathered demigods, three of them rushed forward to meet the monsters’ charge, whilst the other three held their ground and took a more defensive stance.

One of the three who rushed forward could feel his heart pounding as he raised his celestial bronze sword. 

It was odd, Ace thought, how one noticed the smallest things in the most significant of moments. The only things he noticed as he rushed forward was that he felt altogether too calm given the present situation and that the gleam of the moonlight from his sword was quite a sight.

Then, the collision happened.

Ace got within range and sliced through three telkhines before any of them even had the time to lash out. Faster than he could perceive, he cut down an empousai and two dracaena. He was hardly thinking, just allowing his body to react naturally and carry him through battle. 

If what Annabeth had told Andy on the drive to Camp Halfblood was true, ADHD was a natural component of being a demigod. It supposedly served as a sort of trigger for battle instincts. Ace had no idea whether ADHD was to thank for his natural aptitude at fighting, but he was hardly going to question whatever it was.

The most difficult part of the battle’s early stages was resisting the urge to look around him. He could hear weapons colliding as monsters clashed with his friends and companions. He also hadn’t forgotten that Blaze, Andy and Annabeth only seemed to be armed with knives — Blaze and Andy having received theirs courtesy of the Hunters of Artemis. Ace had nothing against them on principle, but he suspected knives would be of little use against monsters who, in some cases, were armed with more long-range weapons such as swords, spears, and javelins.

Ace honestly found that he was more nervous for them than for himself, even though he knew exactly who the real target of this ambush was. That thought was doubtlessly going to wrack him with guilt later if he survived and any of his friends had suffered serious injuries, but his brain currently wasn’t processing emotions like guilt. Anything that might result in so much as a moment’s hesitation was ruthlessly shoved to the wayside. Ace knew enough about combat to know one true principle — even if he was extrapolating a hand-to-hand combat philosophy onto sword fighting. 

Hesitation got you hurt.

In the heat of battle, thinking could be one’s downfall. That would actually explain the part about ADHD, for it would probably be of some help in this regard. Thinking of strategies and next moves in the heat of battle took time. The brain needed to correctly intake and interpret the information around you, after which it then needed to take time to devise an answer based on a countless number of past experiences, extrapolating data from any relevant sources it could find.

Reacting was different.

It was simply muscle memory, even if that term is flawed in many regards. In reality, it was similar to the previous concept, just with one major twist.

The brain didn’t need to do the extrapolating, cross-referencing, and devising when it’s simply choosing to react. It absorbs the information and falls back on previously formed neurological pathways. 

Ace was just reacting, moving this way and that as adrenaline took him over. His heart pumped fast and hard, blood racing through his system like fast-flowing water down a steeply declining stream. 

That was how the first number of minutes went. 

Ace didn’t feel the accumulative wear and tear that his body had been subjected to; wear and tear that was now only worsening due to his current activities. He didn’t feel fear, at least, not for himself. He just moved, reacted, and largely felt invincible. The more monsters he cut down with ruthless efficiency, the more his confidence swelled.

Until the Erinyes showed up.

It started with the heavy beating of wings, and Ace only just managed to duck fast enough to avoid having his throat slit by long, razor-sharp talons. 

That was when he turned to see the three torturers of Hades.

To make matters worse, they had him surrounded.

“In the name of Hades, it is time for you to die,” hissed Alecto. 

Ace took a deep breath and prepared to most probably meet his end.

Then, he raised his sword and charged at the incarnation of never-ceasing anger just as dark, grey clouds began to roll in, veiling the land far below.

_**Meanwhile, in the Big House…** _

Chiron was suddenly awoken by a loud clap of thunder that shook the old, wood floors of the Big House. It was an odd thing, for such weather never approached the valley their camp sat in the middle of unless they wanted it to.

They had most certainly not chosen for it to happen.

Chiron dressed in a nightgown and hastened out onto the house’s wraparound balcony, peering up towards the crest of the hill.

Storm clouds had begun to gather around the outskirts of the valley, and they were darker and more vengeful-looking than any clouds Chiron had seen in many decades. On the hill itself, he could make out the pine tree that had once been Thalia Grace, but he could also make out an even more disturbing image.

A massive horde of monsters the likes of which he hadn’t seen in years, all swarming forward. 

That could only mean one thing.

Ace Iverson had arrived at Camp Halfblood, and action needed to be taken at once.

With a sigh and a determined expression, Chiron snatched a drachmae off of the nearest table and marched back into the Big House with purpose.

He had some Iris messages to send…

_**Back on Halfblood Hill…** _

Ace realized he would die about three seconds after he charged the Erinyes. Alecto swooped out of the way effortlessly and her talons slashed across Ace’s forearm so fast, her movement had appeared blurred. At the same time, Tisiphone swooped down from behind and raked her own talons down Ace’s back. 

With a cry of pain, he fell, and the Erinyes bore down upon him before he could move. Ace had no doubt they intended to swarm him and probably tear out his throat or something equally morbid.

But before that could happen, the world suddenly vanished.

Vanished in the metaphorical sense, that was. 

There was a loud sound and all of a sudden, the world was hidden behind what seemed to be an impenetrable veil of white light. Even when Ace closed his eyes, the light seemed to shine straight through his eyelids, and its image appeared to be imprinted into his mind, for it was all he could see.

As unpleasant as it was for Ace, it was far worse for the Erinyes.

“Get the fuck up outta here!” screamed Cato, slaying one of them with his spear before driving the other two off. Ace was still seeing stars by the time he slowly and painfully clambered to his feet, but he was cognitive enough to take an educated guess at what had just happened.

Evidently, not all of Cato’s weapons had been packed in his bag and, therefore, not all of his weapons had been destroyed when Cerberus had crushed their rented van. If Ace had to guess, he would assume Cato had been carrying that flash grenade in his pocket ever since they had left Nashville. Maybe more than that one, but Ace wouldn’t bet on it. Fitting and concealing one alone was impressive. Any more than that might have been completely implausible.

“You alright, bubba?” asked Cato, his eyes falling at once on Ace’s back.

Ace could feel the blood oozing from where Tisiphone’s talons had slashed across his skin. The shirt he had on underneath his windbreaker was sticking to him, which was his first indication that the cut wasn’t good. His second was the feeling of numb that surrounded the affected area. Most often, the worst cuts actually hurt the least. Usually because it meant the cut was deep enough to affect the nerves, hence preventing them from sending a warning signal to the brain; a warning signal that just so happened to manifest as the pain felt after damaging the body.

The sleeve of his windbreaker was wet with blood from the cut on his forearm, but the material didn’t stick to him the same way his t-shirt did. 

“I’m fine,” he lied, noticing that there seemed to be a lull in the action all around them — likely as a result of Cato’s flash grenade. “How are the others doing?”

Judging by the look on Cato’s face, he didn’t know any better than Ace and both of them turned to search out their companions.

Ace spotted Luke first. He was bleeding from a cut on his arm not too dissimilar from Ace’s as he cut down monster after monster as if he were a vengeful whirlwind. 

Then, Ace’s searching gaze found the others.

Annabeth and Blaze were slicing at anything that got close to them with their knives — though the latter was doing so with much less practiced movements than the former. 

That wasn’t what shocked Ace.

What shocked Ace was Andreia, who now appeared to be wielding a full-sized harpoon as she faced down a herd of telkhines.

“Huh,” said Cato, “That’s new.”

Andreia quickly realized that she was grossly unfit to use a knife. Well, she wasn’t horrible with it, but she was nowhere near good enough to survive the battle they were in. Neither was Blaze, in fairness, but both of them were relying largely on Annabeth — who was doing most of the heavy lifting.

That was until Andreia found herself facing down a pack of telkhines. She glanced around but immediately realized both Blaze and Annabeth were engaged in their own battles. As for Ace, Luke, and Cato… she had no idea. She hadn’t caught sight of any of them since they had disappeared into the main herd of beasts; she had been too busy with her own forms of mortal peril.

She needed to do something or this was going to be it; there was no way she could face down this many armed telkhines with a silver dagger.

Her first thought was to draw on the power of the ocean. She could hear it churning even from here, but she had always had a sort of superhuman ability to detect the water with all five senses. She instinctively knew it was much too far away to be wielded, which meant she was without her greatest weapon.

Wait! Weapon…

Andy’s eyes fell to her collar, beneath which was a necklace she had possessed for a number of years. 

A gift from who she had believed to be her brother in all but blood, Triton.

Now, she realized that Triton might well be _the_ Triton, and her thoughts on the necklace suddenly shifted quite drastically.

_**The Past**  
September 2, 2001  
New Bedford, Massachusetts, USA  
6:57 PM _

The sun was beginning to slowly descend in the sky, causing its light to beam directly down into the water, forming a harsh glare to blind those who looked from the wrong angle.

From her spot perched upon a rock a ways out in the water, Andreia was cognizant of this, even if she wasn’t paying the most attention to it. Most of her attention was focused on the older boy sitting beside her on the rock.

He was eighteen — six years older than Andy — and he had the type of body one might expect from a surfer. His skin was deeply and perfectly tanned, and he was well-muscled. He looked just as young as he was, with vibrant green eyes and long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. Andreia had mocked him for the look in her younger years, but she had secretly come to appreciate it over time.

“What’s got you so down?” asked Triton, eyeing Andy with obvious concern.

She bit her lip and did her best not to fidget. “School’s starting soon,” she muttered.

Triton raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And it means I won’t be able to spend time out here or with you. Not much of it, anyway. You’re never around any time other than the summers, and I’m not much either. I’ll be spending most of my time at school or studying and soon enough, it’ll be too cold to even swim.” Triton chuckled, which only made Andreia glare at him with the intensity of Medusa attempting to petrify her next victim. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s not,” admitted Triton, “but your reaction is hilarious.” Andy tried to shove him off the rock but Triton just shrugged her off. “Seriously, Andy, it’ll be fine. Just think how nice it will make next summer feel.”

She pouted. “That means I have to wait until next summer though.”

Triton sighed in an obviously hyperbolized and overly theatrical manner. “Will you shut up with your whining if I give you something?” His voice was a mixture of teasing and mischievous, and it drew Andy’s attention at once.

“That depends on what you give me.”

Triton smiled and reached into the pocket of his shorts, withdrawing a necklace that made Andy’s breath catch.

It was an elegant necklace with two charms. The first of which was a rooster and the second was an ocean-blue whaling harpoon.

“Do you like it?” asked Triton.

“It’s beautiful,” breathed Andy, looking up at her brother in all but blood with wide eyes. “You’re giving this to me?”

Triton smiled and nodded. “It should hopefully come in handy. The rooster is a sign of good luck. It’s even been used in the past as a symbol to ward off evil.”

“And the harpoon?”

Triton’s grin broadened. “If you’re ever in trouble, just pull the charm off the necklace.” He winked as Andreia laughed at the unbelievable, fairy tale-esque statement, but she gratefully took the necklace nonetheless.

_**Back in the present…** _

In a moment of what was surely foolish desperation born from watching far too many Disney movies as a little girl, Andreia reached up and gave the harpoon charm a sharp tug.

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when, within a second, she was suddenly holding a full-sized harpoon at the ready.

Even the telkhines were taken aback. They faltered, now unsure of how to proceed.

Then Andreia sent the harpoon straight through one of their chests and to her utter awe, the weapon flew back into her hand with a resounding ‘smack’ after striking down its target.

The telkhines fled and Andy spun around, eyes intently searching out her next victim.

Ace didn’t have a whole lot of time to watch Andreia as she began dismantling her very taken aback-looking opposition with a harpoon she had seemingly pulled from nowhere. The small bit he did get to see amazed him, but he was, at present, more concerned about not dying.

The effects of Cato’s flash grenade had long since worn off, and the two of them were once more locked in a battle for their lives. Ace could feel his movements slowing down as his back began to protest.

The skin seemed to groan each time it was stretched as Ace avoided another blow or repositioned himself. He could only imagine the way his movements were slowly peeling the wound open wider and wider. It wasn’t a pleasant image, but death was far less pleasant, in his opinion, so he would take what he could get.

The pain of his wound had been one thing, but the pain of getting kicked in the chest by a fifteen-foot tall being was another thing altogether. Ace became airborne and was sent flying ten or so feet. His back slammed hard into the ground, but it was noticeably not as hard as it probably should have been. Internally muttering a quick thanks to his newly discovered father, he clambered to his feet and had to resist the urge to flinch.

Half a dozen cyclopes were marching towards him, each of them between twelve and eighteen feet tall. Some of them wielded massive axes, whereas others carried roughly-hewn bats of wood or whatever other material they had managed to acquire. Two of them were actually unarmed, but Ace doubted it would matter. One of them would just have to grab him, at which point there would be very little he could do to stop them from doing whatever they liked.

This was it; he was actually going to die this time.

Cato didn’t even seem to see him, intently focused on fighting the empousai that was trying to kill him at every turn. Luke was nowhere to be seen and Andy, Blaze, and Annabeth were much too far behind to help him.

His eyes searched out all of his friends. Morbid as the thought might have been, he wanted a good glimpse at each of them before he made what would likely be his final stand. When his eyes found Andy, they widened in horror. A dracaena was sneaking up behind her and Ace could see it would kill her before she even noticed it.

Several things happened all at once.

Ace screamed “NO!” louder than he had ever screamed anything in his life as thunder shook the sky and a jagged barb of lightning arced out of the heavens, striking and incinerating the dracaena before it could so much as touch Andy. 

Oh, and a tornado touched down on Halfblood Hill.

That was also a thing.

It just so happened to be a thing that touched down all around Ace.

He hadn’t willed it to happen — not consciously, at the very least — but it had. Before the army of giant, one-eyed beasts could murder him, the wind picked up all at once, so strong that they struggled to move forward, looking all the world like they were trapped in quicksand. Ace felt his feet lift off the ground faster than he could put together what was going on, but he quickly realized that a literal tornado had formed around him and was slowly elevating him into the sky.

Before he knew it, Ace seemed to be standing atop the tornado, even though he knew no such thing should have been possible. The craziest thing about it all was that he didn’t even feel off-balance. He felt as though his feet were firmly planted on the ground and from this height, he could survey the entire battlefield.

That was when he made yet another realization as he noticed something about himself when he tried to look around.

He was glowing.

Or, more accurately, he was surrounded by — and encompassed in — a bright, golden light. His hair was whipping ethereally in the wind and, all of a sudden, he felt no pain from his back or leg. He didn’t feel weary, either. He felt like he had slept for days, suddenly feeling more energized than he had ever felt before.

When he saw an empousai slash its claws across Cato’s shoulder, he somehow didn’t even feel nervous. He knew what to do; he couldn’t explain how, he just did.

Ace pointed at the empousai and she was suddenly and immediately obliterated by another bolt of lightning. 

Ace intuitively knew this wasn’t something he was likely ever going to be able to replicate. Somehow, he knew divine intervention was at play; so he, naturally, decided to take advantage of the situation and blast the ever-loving shit out of every monster he could point to that was a safe distance away from his friends.

In essence, Ace went nuclear.

Blaze was not having a good time.

He had virtually no practice fighting with knives, and a knife was all he had at his disposal to hopefully help him not die.

Granted, the whole ‘not dying thing’ had gotten a lot easier when Ace had suddenly ascended into the sky atop a tornado as if he were some sort of god and began ruthlessly smiting their enemies with lightning. 

Blaze lived in England. He had been through his fair share of rainy days and even thunderstorms, but he had never seen anything like this. He was no environmental scientist, but he was pretty sure lightning wasn’t supposed to blast out of the sky repetitively and without more than a two-second delay before the next blast for a period of about ten minutes.

Yet still, they hadn’t won.

The horde of monsters had thinned dramatically and by now, all three of the infamous Erinyes were dead, but there were still plenty of monsters to deal with.

One of which just so happened to be a massive hellhound that made Blaze’s blood run cold.

He wasn’t afraid of many things, but even just being near a dog was enough to make his heartbeat quicken. When he was a kid, he had been bitten and scratched by a large dog owned by some drunk asshole at the park. It hadn’t even really been the dog’s fault. Its owner had been yelling at it and it was clearly on edge. Young Blaze had just had the misfortune of startling it as he ran past, but his mind had never quite been able to forget that memory.

Even now, twelve and a half years later, it still haunted him. Just being near a normal dog made his breathing speed up. Being this close to a hellhound was actually making him shake.

“Blaze!” Annabeth exclaimed, “watch out!”

Blaze didn’t question her, he just listened. Thankfully he did, for a trident whizzed past his head. Annabeth was less fortunate. She had taken her attention off of the hellhound long enough to warn Blaze, and that had apparently been all the opening the beast had needed. 

It swatted Annabeth with its paw and sent her flying as if she were a toy. Blaze could see it tense, ready to pounce and finish her off. He glanced towards Ace but immediately realized there was no chance he would be able to save their new acquaintance. The tornado holding him aloft was quickly sputtering out and Blaze could see, even from a distance, that his friend looked utterly exhausted.

He didn’t think about what he did next, it just happened.

The world seemed like a panicked blur of motion as he charged towards the hellhound. Next thing he knew, he was atop the thing’s back as fear gave way to fury and indignance. Whether he trusted Annabeth or not, he was not going to let her die moments after she had saved his life. Even outside of the moral dilemmas that would pose, he would also feel as though he owed her a debt he could never repay.

Benedict Lane paid his debts.

This one just so happened to be paid by driving his knife into the hellhound’s mane and taking a sort of sick satisfaction at the way it whimpered and melted into shadows.

When he hit the ground, Blaze turned to check up on Ace.

But it wasn’t the sight of Ace that took his breath away…

Soaring high above the battlefield and hurling lightning at will had been really cool... until it wasn’t.

Ace had quickly realized he could actually control the tornado’s movements with mere thoughts, and he essentially became a god amongst men for those few minutes of glory. Monsters rushed towards the tornado or threw weapons at him, but nothing worked. Any oncoming weapons were just blown away before they could even reach him and he was far too high in the air to fear any short-range attacks.

Unfortunately, commanding the forces of nature was apparently really tiring.

Within five minutes, Ace was covered in sweat and breathing as if he had just sprinted a mile. Within ten, his legs were shaking and struggling to hold him up, and within twelve, the tornado was not-so-slowly blowing itself out.

And then it did, and Ace fell a _long way_ to the ground. If he was anyone but the son of Zeus, the fall would have killed him. The air did seem to slow his fall a bit, but it still hurt like hell and he found it impossible to stand after he landed.

Breath wouldn’t come and he felt stabbing pain on either side of his abdomen every time he tried to intake oxygen. Moving was even worse and monsters were now bearing down upon him.

This was the end.

Or at least it would have been, had their saviours not arrived.

The sound of pounding footsteps and war cries could suddenly be heard, and the monsters seemed to realize what was happening before any of the six demigods whom they had been hunting.

And then every single camper residing at Camp Halfblood poured over the crest of the hill, most of them dressed to the nines in full Greek battle armour.

Volleys of arrows flew through the sky, cutting down about half the remaining monsters before they could regroup. Many others fell to campers wielding swords, spears, javelins, tridents, knives, and other weapons Ace didn’t even have names for.

His vision was swimming as blackness began to close in on all sides, and his last thought before succumbing to unconsciousness was that he really hoped the monsters didn’t have reinforcements of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is probably my favourite chapter yet, so I really hope you enjoyed it. Very different from my typical style, but I would like to think I made it work quite well, in my completely unbiased opinion…**
> 
> **I promise I didn’t just make Ace worldbreakingly overpowered. That tornado scene was sort of a one-time thing that will be explained in the next chapter. If any of you can guess what that scene was in the reviews before then, all the more power to you.**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **Thank you as always to my lovely Discord Editors 3CP and Asmodeus Stahl for their corrections/contributions this week.**
> 
> **A massive thank you is also extended to my first top-tier Patron, Κυρία της φωτιάς, Lily of Dreams, for her generous support on that platform! It continues to boggle my mind each and every time, and it is something for which I will be forever grateful!**
> 
> **PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, February 21st, 2021.**


	16. Warm Welcomes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Luq707, Athena Hope, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
> **Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. You can do likewise to follow me on Twitter for live updates and to check out my official website.**
> 
> **If you enjoy my work and would like to read all of my chapters weeks/months early, as well as gain access to other, exclusive benefits, I have a P A T R E O N page, which can be used to support me directly. It can also be found on my profile.**
> 
> [ACI100’s Discord Server](https://discord.gg/X6FtTs3)  
> [ACI100’s Twitter](https://twitter.com/ACI_100)  
> [ACI100’s Website](https://aci100.com)

_**November 22, 2004  
The Big House  
10:13 AM** _

The light was the first thing Ace saw after succumbing to the darkness that had closed in on all sides while he saw the opposing army cut down on top of Halfblood Hill. It was an odd sort of light, for it was neither truly dim nor bright. He could see it, but somehow, it seemed muted. The state he found himself in for his first few waking moments wasn’t one that lent itself to deductive reasoning; he let his head clear before he looked around the room and put together exactly where he was.

The setting itself was unfamiliar. He was lying in a bed — a well-made, king-sized bed with white sheets — but even that was confusing. He most certainly had not fallen asleep in a bed and it took him a moment to come up with a feasible solution that didn’t pose the threat of a heart attack upon more careful consideration.

They had been trying to enter Camp Halfblood. At the tail end of the conflict, the residents of the camp had poured onto the field of battle, driving off the oncoming force of monsters and presumably winning them the day, provided the enemy didn’t have reinforcements of their own.

Seeing as he was currently still alive, Ace thought it a safe bet to say the enemy most definitely did not have reinforcements.

So he presumed he was somewhere in the camp. This fit, for the room he was in, seemed extremely plain. It was unfurnished and the walls were a dull white that didn’t exactly express whoever owned this place, and the only window in the room was covered by semi-transparent curtains. At least, that explained the odd balance of light.

“You alright there, bubba?”

Ace sat bolt upright, sending a spasm of pain up his back. It wasn’t anything horrendous, but it wasn’t the world’s most pleasant experience either. He had been so focused on observing his surroundings that he hadn’t noticed the man sitting on the edge of his bed. He had been facing away from Ace, eyes intently fixated on the door, but the youth lying prone in the bed didn’t fail to recognize him when he turned his head. 

“Cato?”

“How ya feelin’?”

“Not horrible, not great. My back doesn’t seem to like me much right now, but I don’t feel awful.”

“Sounds about right. I’d be surprised if you didn’t feel somethin’.” 

“What happened? The last thing I remember was a bunch of kids in armour coming over the side of the hill. I’m guessing the campers, but it’s hard to say.”

“That was them, yeah. All of ‘em came to bail us out. The monsters retreated and haven’t come back since. It doesn’t seem like it’d matter even if they did. This place has wards or somethin’ around it. No monsters can get in unless they’re wanted, apparently. That’s what I’ve been told, at least.”

“Cato… how long has it been since that fight?”

“Four days, bubba.”

The blood drained from Ace’s face. “Four days?”

“Yup. You were out cold on top of that hill. Lucky ya didn’t get trampled. Not sure how much attention most of the campers were payin’.” 

“So it’s… the 22nd?”

“Sure is.” Cato was grinning for the first time in their conversation and Ace wasn’t entirely sure why. “Big day comin’ up soon.”

“Oh?”

“Thanksgivin’, bubba!”

Ace frowned. “We… do that earlier in Canada. Yours is… this Thursday?”

“Yup.”

“And it’s… what? Monday?”

“Sure is.” 

Ace genuinely wasn’t sure if he had ever seen Cato this enthusiastic about anything and he told his friend as much. 

The maniacal grin that widened on his features was equal parts comical and terrifying. “Oh, bubba. If there’s anythin’ I like more than blowin’ shit up, it’s food.” He looked like a kid in a candy store. “And trust me, I’mma eat a lotta food!”

Ace and Cato talked for another five or so minutes before the strangest looking man Ace had ever seen entered the room. He was very tall and muscular — that much was obvious even through his suit — but that was far from the weirdest thing about him. Ace’s stomach did a sort of horrible summersault when he realized this man — or whatever the hell he or it was — didn’t seem to have a square inch of skin visible that wasn’t covered by a wide, unblinking eye. He wondered for all of three seconds whether the skin that wasn’t so visible was plagued by this same oddity, but he quickly decided it was better if he didn’t know, all things considered.

“That’s Argus,” said Cato after the man had delivered a brief message and left. 

Apparently, Ace’s presence was wanted by a Chiron. The boy in question’s immediate reaction to that was to ask Cato whether or not it was the Chiron. He felt as though the affirmative answer he had received really should have come as more of a surprise than it did. The thing was, surprising Ace after the last week and a half was going to be no mere feat.

“I’m guessing that’s also _the_ Argus?” asked Ace. “The one from the myths who was killed by Hermes?”

“Argus Panoptes, yeah. He’s quiet; that’s actually the first time I’ve heard him talk since we got here.”

“How’s it been since getting here?” Ace asked.

Cato’s eyes lit up. “Oh, bubba, wait ‘til ya see everything goin’ on! This place is great! Speaking of which, we should get you to that meeting with Chiron.”

“You’re coming with me?”

“What’d I say back in that tent? We watch each other’s back. I might be here and I might love it, but that don’t mean I trust everyone. Luke still gives me weird vibes and Annabeth is real quiet. They fought with us in that battle, though, so I’m givin’ ‘em the benefit of the doubt for now.”

“Fair enough,” said Ace, shakily getting to his feet and following Cato out of the room. “Any idea why my back hurts like hell?”

“Probably cause you fell fuck knows how many feet and landed right on it.”

“Shouldn’t being a son of Zeus sort of stop that from happening? It’s worked well for me every other time I did something crazy involving heights or jumping out of something lately.”

“It’s kinda complicated from what I can tell. Chiron’ll explain it, but you sorta used up all your energy. Had nothin’ left by the time that tornado died out.”

Ace nodded slowly. That fit pretty well with what he remembered; he had never felt so physically exhausted in all of his life. Given his competitive escapades over the years, that was actually saying a lot.

“I still have no idea how I did that,” he said as they stepped out the door and onto a wooden, wraparound porch. 

From this vantage point, Ace could see a large part of the camp. The vast valley stretched out all around them, with a dense forest off in the distance on one side, the ocean on another, expansive strawberry fields immediately ahead of them, and the hill on which they had valiantly fought off to their right. 

That was only speaking of the natural landmarks. Ace could also make out things that were very obviously manmade and they captivated him far more than the bits of pretty scenery. He could make out what appeared to be a forge or something, as well as what he thought resembled an Ancient Greek amphitheatre, in which would be held live sporting events.

“That’s an interesting tale.” 

Ace had expected to see a centaur like those depicted in pop culture that he’d seen growing up. He certainly hadn’t expected a somewhat scruffy man who appeared to be sitting in a wheelchair. He shot a sideways glance towards Cato, but the man just nodded. Beside Chiron was another, more portly-looking man.

“It’s good to see you awake, Mister Iverson.”

“You too, uh… sir.”

The wheelchair-bound man smiled. “I don’t see any need for such formal addresses. Please, call me Chiron.”

Ace took the man’s offered hand and shook it firmly, taking a seat opposite him as he did so, still a bit bemused by the whole situation. “Ace for me then, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” said Chiron, sitting back in his wheelchair and watching the two boys sat across the table from him with interest. “Now, I’m sure you have questions, even though you received more background than most of our other campers.” Ace nodded warily. “Very well. How about we start with your questions and we’ll go from there.”

“Um… how did I do that, exactly? The only thing I had ever done knowingly before that was manipulating the wind. I’ve done some other things without realizing it before that fight, but nothing like summoning a tornado or lightning.”

“The interesting thing, Ace, is that you weren’t the one who summoned either the tornado or the lightning.” When the boy across from him looked suitably confused, Chiron offered him a small smile. “You of course know by now that your father is Zeus, Lord of the Sky?”

Ace nodded and Chiron twirled his beard thoughtfully. “One thing you must understand is that the gods are held to different standards than mortals. They are the forces that rule over the world. They are immensely powerful, but they also have an immense amount of responsibility.” 

The man beside Chiron snorted quietly, but Ace paid him no mind. He was far too focused on the lecture he was receiving, and he gave a gesture of affirmation for Chiron to continue. 

“There are very ancient laws that govern the Olympian council. Perhaps the most noteworthy of them all is that the gods aren’t supposed to interact too directly with the mortal world. They’re supposed to do their part in maintaining their given field of control, but they aren’t supposed to have a direct impact on the events of the world.”

The twirling of Chiron’s beard suddenly became a lot more agitated and Ace couldn’t help but notice how his eyes darted up towards the sky several times before he next spoke. 

“The thing with rules and laws is that breaking them has punishments.” He shot a furtive glance to his side. “Mr. D here can attest to that, I’m sure.”

Ace’s attention focused on the portly man for the first time. He was handsome enough and Ace might have been able to call him rugged if he wasn’t mildly overweight. His features had the appearance of those that had once been chiselled. He was nursing a can of Diet Coke and looking down, but he now looked up for the first time. Ace did not flinch under his gaze, but it was much more intense than what he had been expecting. His eyes were odd; a vivid purple which seemed to have an eerie glow to it.

“There are certainly punishments, yes,” the man said, and Ace thought he had put two and two together.

“You’re a god, aren’t you?”

The man sneered at him. “I am a god, yes.” The way he spoke made it sound very clear that was not an acceptable conclusion, and Ace’s brain began to work.

It didn’t take long.

Mr. D, he had been called.

“Dionysus,” Ace breathed in barely more than a whisper.

“He’s our Camp Director,” said Chiron. “He… got a tad too close with a nymph who was off-limits some time ago and was mandated one-hundred years of service here.”

Ace quirked a brow at Mr. D, but he just shrugged. “She was lovely,” was his only, half-hearted response.

“Er, yes, thank you, Mr. D. Anyway, there are laws and rules.” Chiron paused, seeming to consider his next words very carefully. “Rules and laws are only as important as their punishments are effective. The more powerful one is, the less these punishments logically matter. Swearing a vow on the River Styx, for example, is the strictest vow anyone can make. Breaking a vow of this nature would result in instant death.”

“But the gods are immortal,” Ace filled in. “I’m guessing by the way you’re setting this up, it wouldn’t take something else from them?”

“Your guess is correct. The same goes for other punishments in the same way. Your father is Zeus. He follows these laws most of the time because there would be an uproar on the Olympian council if he didn’t. But… every so often, if he thinks he can get away with breaking one…” Chiron shrugged as he let his sentence tail off. There was really no need to finish; his meaning was clear enough.

“So my father summoned the lightning and the tornado?”

“He did, yes. What you had that night was called a blessing. It isn’t technically breaking the rules… in most cases, so long as it is done _very_ sparingly.”

“You said most of the time?” Ace asked with narrowed eyes.

“Ah, yes,” Chiron said awkwardly. “You see… that’s where the River Styx comes in…”

__**November 25, 2004**  
The Dining Pavilion  
6:00 PM 

Ace’s first few days at Camp Halfblood had been a whirlwind. 

The news that his birth should have never happened hadn’t exactly been the most uplifting start. His very existence apparently served as a breach in a seventy-year-old pact made by the Big Three. Or, in other words, the three Olympian sons of Kronos — Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. 

According to Chiron, their children had been influencing the events of history far too much. They just had powers other demigods didn’t, so their birth had been outlawed at the end of World War 2. As far as Chiron knew, there had only been one violation of this pact before Ace’s birth. That had been when Zeus had broken it the first time by siring a daughter named Thalia, whose story was tragic enough to effectively kill Ace’s mood — even without the whole ‘you shouldn’t be alive’ thing.

Ace was the only living demigod child of the Big Three that Chiron knew of, so the pact had presumably never been broken again.

That _really_ killed Ace’s mood. Being told you shouldn’t be alive was a morbidly spectacular way of making somebody feel like hell, but it didn’t end there. 

Whatever the hell had spoken to Ace during his most recent nightmare in that cave-like place had unfortunately been very close to correct. Not much had changed. Not in the ways he wanted, at least. 

When Artemis had told Ace about his parentage and what it would mean, one of the first things he had silently mourned was the death of his sporting aspirations. He hadn’t had much time to allow his brain to linger on the thought, but it was definitely there. It was much stronger now that he was out of mortal peril, but even that wasn’t all.

That same night, when Artemis had broken the truth to him, Ace had at least hoped that the attention might lift off of him now. The one positive thing about no longer being able to do what he loved was that he wouldn’t have the attention of everyone around him at all times. 

That had gone out the window the moment he had been made aware of the Big Three’s pact.

Everywhere he went inside the borders of Camp Halfblood, people gawked and pointed as though he was some sort of exhibit on display. It bothered him immensely and he had been quite snappish those first days as a result. Andreia had tried talking to him about it once, but she had quickly gotten the hint it wasn’t a subject he was interested in speaking about. Neither Cato nor Blaze had pressed him, though all three of them had said they were open to talking whenever Ace liked.

The three of them had all wound up in the Hermes cabin, which apparently took all new campers who hadn’t yet been claimed by their godly parents. Zeus technically hadn’t claimed Ace in the traditional sense, but ordering a quest and blessing his son had served as an apt substitute. Blaze was a bit moody regarding his living arrangements, and Cato wasn’t thrilled either. Andy had been very gloomy the first day or two when she realized she wouldn’t likely be returning home to her father, but she had cheered up after a phone call with the man. He had told her his mother must have been the goddess, but Ace and Cato weren’t sold.

That first night back, Cato had snuck into Ace’s cabin. It was pretty easy, seeing as Ace was the only one occupying it. They had stayed up late talking and one of the topics to arise was the parentage of their two friends. Both of them had to grudgingly admit that Blaze’s was a mystery. He hadn’t shown any obvious signs of being associated with any Olympian yet, but Andy’s was less ambiguous.

She had been given a magical harpoon by a man named Triton and she could control water. It seemed a no-brainer to both boys that she could only be the daughter of Poseidon.

They hadn’t told her this. Partially because they saw no reason to bring her the same oppressive feeling that Ace was now experiencing, and partially because that would involve calling her apparent father a liar. She seemed very close with him, so that wasn’t something they wanted to do. Especially not now that she was so happy. After getting over the initial shock and acquiring her ‘father’s’ blessing, Andy seemed to thrive in the Hermes cabin. She was definitely a people person, unlike the other three.

Ace’s mood also improved, just not as drastically as his female friend’s.

He did finally get the opportunity to speak with his mother and stepfather. His stepfather had been… surprised. Taken aback or aghast might have been more accurate. Ace just hoped the man didn’t collapse from shock. His mother had apparently known all along but had kept it from him in the hope it wouldn’t affect his life. His real father had once told her that so long as Ace stayed on the northern side of the border, he might get away with not feeling the effects of being his son. 

She was very apologetic for not telling him but now that he was in the States, she very much encouraged him to stay at camp. It was obvious through her tone alone that doing so was the furthest thing from easy, but she got through it. His stepfather did the same, even though he was clearly a bit annoyed with his mother. It didn’t sound to Ace like he was truly angry. Hurt seemed more on the money, with perhaps a bit of frustration mixed in. 

Ace had promised to contact them via Iris messaging — a form of communication used by those who dwelled on the less mundane side of the Mist — as well as the phone calls to family the campers were granted once a month. Cell phones supposedly attracted monsters to such an extent that even in the borders of Camp Halfblood, they didn’t dare use them more than that.

Once that immense burden had been lifted off his shoulders, Ace had felt a bit better. Said burden notwithstanding, nothing had done more to lift Ace’s mood than the camp itself.

It was incredible.

A sword-fighting arena, an amphitheatre, a forge, a weapons lockup, a ridiculously dangerous rock climbing wall that could spew small gouts of lava on command, and so much more. Camp Halfblood was the most amazing place Ace had ever imagined, and that wasn’t even including the activities.

They had lessons in archery, sword fighting, hand-to-hand combat, Ancient Greek, and so much more. The latter had been very amusing. Chiron had been quite incredulous when Cato had immediately displayed an encyclopedic knowledge of the language. Watching the shock on the centaur’s face had really been something, and now it was Cato who was teaching Ace, Andy, and Blaze the subject.

They had weekends off, but Friday evenings were always a spectacle of some kind. 

It was a four-week rotation that would restart itself at the beginning of each calendar year. The first week, campers would draw random names from a hat and duel their chosen name in the arena with weapons of their choosing. Of course, these duels were officiated and highly regulated, as well as being fought under a very specific ruleset. It was done for the sake of training, not maiming. 

The second week started in the exact same way, with campers drawing names from a hat. On those days, however, they wouldn’t be duelling with weapons. They would instead be testing themselves in Pankration. Or, in other words, hand-to-hand combat; a mix of striking and grappling that ended after the time had elapsed, one opponent had yielded — usually due to a grappling hold of some kind — or the referee — Chiron, in this case — thought one contestant had taken enough damage. 

Campers only took part in these two activities if they were willing; no one was ever forced to do so. A large number of the campers did though, primarily because nectar and ambrosia could heal almost any injury sustained in either in a relatively brief period of time.

The other two weeks in the four-week rotation were more team-based. 

One was referred to as Game Night, and it would see the campers teaming up and playing several battle-based strategy games. Nothing like chess or anything of the sort, mind you. These were custom-made games put together by the Hephaestus and Athena cabins. They were meant to hone battle strategies and encourage quick thinking under pressure.

The final week in the rotation — the one Ace was most looking forward to — was Capture the Flag. The unfortunate thing was that it wouldn’t be happening for several weeks now. It had happened the day after their arrival at camp, but none of the new arrivals had been in any state to participate.

These were the things that excited Ace most about Camp Halfblood. Cato was also eager for them, but there was something that appealed to him far more.

Thanksgiving dinner.

The outdoor pavilion was lined with jack o' lanterns, all of which seemed to glow impossibly bright, casting the dining area in bright, yet eerie light. Scattered here and there were cornucopias. Some of them appeared to be fake, but Ace could have sworn he saw one of them spew forth a full plate of mashed potatoes for Mr. D about halfway through the meal. Some of the horns were scattered across the tables, while others were hung around the pavilion.

Ace got a surprise about five minutes into his meal when somebody pulled up a chair beside him. Being the only child of Zeus meant that he ate all of his meals alone. Nobody had ever sat with him before, so his attention immediately raised from his plate.

It was Cato, setting not one but two heaping plates of food down in front of him as he took a seat. “Is that… allowed?” Ace asked, shooting glances towards Chiron and Mr. D. 

Cato just maneuvered a massive piece of turkey into his mouth. “Don’t care,” he said when his chewing had subsided.

Ace glanced towards where Mr. D and Chiron sat with the camp’s satyrs. Chiron caught his eye and glanced from him to Cato. After an obvious moment of hesitation, the centaur just nodded and went back to his food. 

Ace breathed an internal sigh of relief as he turned back to Cato. “You’re only that far through your first two plates?”

Cato laughed. “Bubba, this ain’t my two first plates and it ain’t gonna be my last two plates.”

Ace rolled his eyes and pondered a response, but he was caught off guard when not one, but two more chairs were pulled out from nearby. Blaze and Andreia had made their way over to the Zeus table and sat down, not sparing any of the other campers so much as a glance.

Chiron still didn’t look up from his food, but many of the other campers were watching them now. Ace disliked the stares, but they were more than worth it to have his three closest friends with him.

But, of course, they couldn’t enjoy a moment of normality; that would have been far too easy.

Just as Andreia opened her mouth to speak, it turned into a gaping gesture as she — along with most people who had been looking in their direction — stared open-mouthed at Cato.

There was an odd, silvery glow surrounding him and a holographic-looking owl loomed above him. Within seconds, the whole pavilion had noticed and were all staring at him, wide-eyed. Ace heard a great deal of muttering — mostly from the Hermes cabin — about how they had waited so much longer to be claimed. He hadn’t known this to be a claiming, but it made sense, and the symbol was obvious.

“Campers,” boomed Chiron, “we have our newest designation. Rise and show respect to Cato Anders, son of Athena; the Goddess of Wisdom and Battle!”

“Of course it would be Athena,” Ace told Cato through the thunderous stomping and applauding that dominated the dining area as they all took to their feet. He was beaming despite his jab and even Cato looked euphoric…

For all of three seconds, until he began to look annoyed.

After ten, he cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the entire pavilion. “Look, y’all,” he started, “I appreciate everything but I have a request.” When no one spoke, he went on, deadly serious. “Can we all sit the hell back down and get back to eatin’? I wanna finish my damn food!”

The air that had been filled with applause and other sounds of celebration, not a moment earlier, was now dominated by the joyful sound of laughter as they all retook their seats.

There really was nobody quite like Cato Anders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter was originally going to cover more time, but the first few scenes took on a life of their own. There are two more chapters left in season 1. Both of them are written and they will be posted in the next two weeks. Feel free to join my Discord server if you want to read them early. The link is on my profile.**
> 
> **Also, Zeus blessing Ace at the end of the last chapter was based on the blessing of Ares, shown during the Battle of Manhattan in the Last Olympian.**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editor Asmodeus Stahl for his corrections/contributions this week.**
> 
> **A massive thank you is also extended to my first top-tier Patron, Κυρία της φωτιάς, Lily of Dreams, for her generous support on that platform! It continues to boggle my mind each and every day, and it is something for which I will be forever grateful!**
> 
> **PS: Season 1’s penultimate chapter will be posted next Sunday, February 28th, 2021.**


	17. All Hail the Queen of Dolphins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Luq707, Athena Hope, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
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_**December 3, 2004  
The Sword Fighting Arena, Camp Halfblood  
7:00 PM** _

The days following Cato’s claiming had been interesting, to say the very least. 

In hindsight, it came as no surprise at all to find out Cato was a son of Athena. It made perfect sense to all who knew him, even if it hadn’t been as obvious as one might think. He definitely had the intelligence; he was undoubtedly the smartest person Ace had ever met. The thing about him was that he just didn’t seem to carry himself with the demeanour one would expect from a son of Athena. 

When retroactively thinking what he expected from a child of the Wisdom Goddess, Ace came to a few common conclusions. He would expect them to be mature beyond their years, articulate, well-spoken, calculating, intelligent, and a skilled practitioner in the art of deductive reasoning.

Whilst Cato fit many of those things, there were some he didn’t; though Ace thought some of them were more out of choice than because he couldn’t. He was absolutely intelligent, calculating, and possessed an abundance of deductive abilities, but articulate and well-spoken weren’t words that came to mind when he pictured his friend. Many who didn’t know him may have also said he was far from the picture of maturity, but Ace begged to differ. Sure, Cato had his moments of gleeful indulgence, but his maturity couldn’t be debated. Not after their coast-to-coast journey and all that had come along with it.

Ace also suspected that if he wanted to be articulate, Cato probably could. It just wasn’t something he was particularly inclined to do.

“Easier not to, really,” Cato had told him when they had spoken of the topic in the Zeus cabin the night after Thanksgiving. 

Cato had decided he would occasionally sneak into Ace’s cabin after curfew. It was empty aside from Ace otherwise and Cato generally preferred the company of his best friend compared to that of his cabin mates. 

“English is just a language. Bein’ all fancy is only useful once in a while. If it’s useful, I’ll do it. Other than that, just kinda a waste of time.” He had then grinned a wide, toothy grin. “And people underestimate me when I talk all Southern and improper. That’s always a ton of fun.”

Cato had gotten more attention since being claimed than he would have liked, but he handled it well. Being the newly-claimed son of Athena who had helped to escort the son of Zeus to Camp Halfblood did earn one a fair bit of shine. His now-infamous one-liner that had sent the pavilion into peals of laughter also only added to the effect. Centre of attention in his cabin or not, Cato was more than a little bit grateful to be out of the constant Hermes shuffle.

“It ain’t nothin’ against ‘em,” he had said, “it’s just too cramped for me. You know how it is with bad ADHD. I don’t like sittin’ still for long and there ain’t no room to move in that cabin. It makes me fuckin’ crazy.”

“I wonder how long it will be until Blaze and Andy get claimed,” mused Ace. 

“Probably a while if Andy’s parent really is Poseidon,” said Cato. “I doubt he’ll wanna admit he broke the pact too.”

“Do you think he just might not claim her if that’s the case?”

“Possibly. Some of the kids in the Hermes cabin say they’ve been there for years. Some of ‘em have even run away from camp in the past. Kid named Ethan ran for it last summer, I was told. Apparently, he was a good fighter.”

“Any guesses on Blaze’s parent yet?”

Cato shook his head. “I’d guess the dad based on his family history, but hell if I know. If Andy’s parent is Poseidon, her story don’t check out, so no reason Blaze’s can’t be wrong either.”

“There’s nothing that screams demigod about him either, is there?”

“Nah, not really. I mean… Andy makin’ water do whatever she wants and you jumpin’ off shit made it pretty obvious.”

“Chiron did say Big Three kids are different though. Our powers are more dramatic, so it’s probably easier to tell when one of us shows up.”

“Probably, yeah. I’m sure he’ll get claimed eventually.”

Speaking of Andy and Blaze, they had been laying low since their arrival at camp. They were known mostly as the kids who showed up with the son of Zeus, which was something Ace felt more than a little bit guilty about. Neither of them seemed resentful for it, which was a relief to him, and the looks they had received in the first number of days after Ace was conscious had drastically diminished in terms of their frequency. They were now just, for the most part, two more unknowns lurking about in the Hermes cabin, waiting to be claimed.

It was a sad thought to many, but Ace wondered whether he might have preferred it that way. Everywhere he went, the stares bore into him. Everything he did, he felt them watching like he was a fascinating specimen they had under a microscope. The first day of training in the amphitheatre had been a prime example.

_**The Past  
November 24, 2004  
The Sword Fighting Arena  
11:00 AM** _

Being the only one in his cabin meant that Ace mostly got to assign his own schedule. Because of this, he had chosen to train with the Hermes cabin, as this had happened before Cato had been claimed by the Goddess of Wisdom and Battle.

Muttering had erupted through the arena the second Ace had walked through the door and all pairs of eyes had watched him intently right up until the sparring had begun. 

Luke was in charge of the practice, which wasn’t really a surprise. Ace had seen him fight during what was now christened as the Battle of Halfblood Hill, and he was good. According to most gathered in the amphitheatre, he was the best swordsman Camp Halfblood had seen in the past two hundred years.

There was a moment during which Ace thought he was going to end up sparring Luke. Those blue eyes had found him in the crowd, but it seemed Luke had thought better of it. He obviously realized Ace still hadn’t developed a rapport with him yet, so perhaps he thought sparring wouldn’t be the best idea.

Not that he let Ace off easy.

Logically, one might think the best idea would be to pair Blaze up with Andy and Ace up with Cato. It would be pitting the newbies against one another, which would, in theory, be the safest and fairest way of doing it. Andy and Blaze did get paired together, but Ace and Cato didn’t. 

Cato was paired with a tall, muscular boy who had yet to be claimed, while Ace was set against a boy roughly his age named Travis. Travis and his younger brother Connor were infamous; aside from Luke, they were easily the most decorated and notable children of Hermes at the camp. They were notorious pranksters, and skilled ones at that. Just because they had joking demeanours didn’t mean they were ones to take lightly. 

Ace actually thought putting him up against either Stoll brother during his first-ever live sparring session was borderline sociopathic on the part of Luke. He logically shouldn’t be able to win and he wondered if Luke might just be trying to make an example of him. If nothing else, losing would likely take a bit of the shine away from him and lessen the stares he was subject to everywhere he went.

As tantalizing an image as that prospect was, Ace didn’t plan on losing. 

He rationally understood that he was the underdog and shouldn’t be able to win, but he just didn’t care.

Ace _hated_ losing.

A lifetime of competing in multiple sports at a high level had instilled within him a brutal competitive streak and a ruthless opposition to anything but victory. His coaches and teammates often joked about how horrible a loser Ace was. He wasn’t the type to vocally complain about it, protest to the officials, or throw a tantrum; however, he was absolutely the type to be reserved and drawn in after losses, making it obvious to any who knew him exactly how bothered he was by it all.

Ace didn’t intend on letting that happen now.

Travis was a couple of inches taller than Ace, but he was slender and carried less muscle. Ace could also tell by the thin smile on his face and dancing light in his eyes that the boy was confident…

Perhaps a touch too confident.

Ace held the sword he had stolen back in Nashville at the ready until Luke gave the command to begin.

The duel didn’t last long.

Travis lunged forward but Ace parried his strike mid-slash and slammed the flat of his blade into the boy’s shoulder, sending him staggering. Travis raised his sword to block Ace’s return-strike, but Ace wasn’t fighting like a conventional swordsman. The textbook thing to do would be to plant one’s feet and counter, but Ace was approaching this more like a martial art than a game of fencing. 

As soon as Travis had stumbled back, Ace feinted with a slash to the chest, leaning to his left to fake that movement, and then darted to the right, slamming the blade of his sword into the hilt of Travis’s and sending the boy's weapon spinning out of his hands.

The boy gaped at Ace. “How the hell did you do that?” 

Ace shrugged unapologetically. “It’s not that different from martial arts. It’s a game of angles, footwork, and distance management. You planted your feet and made yourself a predictable target. I made you take the bait, changed directions and took advantage. Simple feinting, really.”

Travis just shook his head in bemusement.

_**Back in the present…** _

The stares had only worsened after that first day, as news of Ace’s exploits had spread through the camp like a midsummer wildfire. He had sparred several boys that day and none of them had lasted long. One of the only experienced campers he hadn’t sparred was Luke, largely because the trust just wasn’t there. There were even some mutterings around the camp that Ace might be the one to knock Luke off of his pedestal as the camp’s best swordsman. By the Hermes’ counsellor’s own admission, Ace was the most naturally gifted swordsman he had ever laid his eyes upon. 

Blaze had done quite well too, as had Cato. Andy had struggled and the others could tell it had bothered her at the time, but she had shaken it off quickly enough. By her own admission, a sword wouldn’t be near the top of the list of her go-to weapons if she had to rank them.

Out of the four of them, Ace was the only one to enter into the two end-of-week competitions during the first two weeks of December. The only quarter of the camp’s four week rotation he had thus far been conscious for had been Game Night. The Athena cabin had dominated, and Cato teaming up with Annabeth and his other siblings had been borderline unfair on the 26th of November. Of the four events, it — along with Capture the Flag — was one of the two that mandated campers’ participation. 

The week after Game Night, duels would be set up in the amphitheatre. They would be open-weapon, meaning one could select any ancient form of weaponry to do battle with. 

After realizing his affinity for sword fighting, Ace had entered this event, something Blaze called him ‘mental’ for. Ace saw no issue with it. It was extremely rare for a new camper to jump into the event so quickly, but Ace felt confident. All of the entries’ names would be put into a hat and drawn out at random. The pairs would then be set against each other, each sparring one match. At the end of each summer, there was an annual tournament to crown the best swordsman in the camp. This event was also not divided by gender, unlike the one that followed it one week later.

That event was Pankration, which ran similarly to the duels. The closest modern-day comparable to Pankration would be mixed martial arts, but Pankration had more rules and much less damage was typically inflicted during the matches. Occasionally, the camp would limit it to only striking or only grappling, just so those involved could hone specific skill sets. 

Unless it was strictly grappling, the event was divided by gender. When punches, kicks, knees and elbows were removed, the genders could technically compete against each other, since the risk of any damage at that point was minimal. As a matter of fact, during these grappling-specific events, both Clarisse and Annabeth were arguably the two most successful competitors from either gender.

The first round of Pankration since the quartet’s arrival was not a striking or grappling specific event, but an open-class competition with the standardized rules set to take place on December 10th. Ace had also entered into this event, which he actually felt quite confident in. Martial arts were something he had spent many years practicing, so it was right up his wheelhouse. Mind you, he was far more striking-oriented. If he faced a talented grappler, his game plan would be to maintain distance at all costs.

But tonight was about sword fighting, not Pankration.

Ace stood in the centre of the arena, squaring off with the same blonde who had helped escort him to Camp Halfblood. Sky blue eyes locked with stormy grey, each trying to will doubt into the possessor of their antithesis. 

Ace’s entrance into both optional events had only drawn even more attention and many had wondered how he would fare. The consensus seemed to be that he would do well in sword fighting but that he wouldn’t do nearly as well in Pankration if he was pitted against an older opponent.

Now that Annabeth had been randomly selected as his first adversary… the opinions in the stands were divided. 

Ace had been painted as a prodigy with a sword, but Annabeth was easily the second-best wielder of that particular weapon in the camp next to Luke — even if it wasn’t typically her first choice in battle. She usually preferred fighting with knives in open battle, which was well-known, but the crowd still very much wondered whether it was even possible for a newbie to take her down. She had elected to use a sword tonight; knives didn’t typically match up well against swords unless the element of surprise could be employed.

Which wasn’t going to be an option tonight, in the centre of an open amphitheatre, with the crowd all leaning forward and on the edge of their seats.

Chiron ordered both Ace and Annabeth to their starting positions. Contrary to tensing, both of them visibly relaxed. Each of them knew tension was their enemy. It would only lead to their strikes being telegraphed and easily blocked, as well as the inevitable speeding up of the process of fatigue.

A gong rang through the arena and Ace darted forward. The crowd began to mutter at his unorthodox patterns of movement. He wasn’t engaging, as was typical, but sliding from left to right just out of the reach of Annabeth’s sword. Most present had never seen such movements before, but Annabeth knew what he was doing. She had been one of the more avid studiers of martial arts in the camp and she recognized the technique, even if she had never seen it extrapolated onto sword fighting before.

He was trying to draw a reaction out of her and gauge her default patterns of movement. 

She stayed virtually motionless, watching him intently with those calculating grey eyes and readying herself to defend an attack at any moment. 

It didn’t take long for Ace to realize she wasn’t going to play his game, so he lunged with such speed that some in the crowd gasped. Annabeth managed to parry, if only just, but she didn’t anticipate a return strike in the same way that Travis Stoll had. She slid out of range and waited for him to move, slashing her blade towards him before his feet had planted themselves once more after he had done just that. He blocked the strike but staggered, still unsettled in his new position.

She attacked whilst he was off balance and though he blocked the strike, he was sent toppling onto his back. Annabeth made to pin him down, but he was too quick. He was on his feet again and the next slash of his sword grazed her, opening a small cut on her shoulder.

To Ace’s shock, the flat of her own blade slammed hard into his ribs, unbalancing him once more. She had clearly realized his strike would only graze, so she hadn’t bothered defending it. Instead, she had allowed it to impact her solely to launch her own offence while her opponent’s sword was occupied.

The two of them went strike for strike for the next minute or so, but Ace quickly realized how the duel was going to end.

He was more naturally talented with a sword, that much was evident. Annabeth was extremely athletic and had lightning-like reflexes, but Ace outmatched her in both areas. He also just had an innate ability to gauge distance and spot openings.

The problem was, talent wasn’t everything.

It quickly became just as clear that in terms of the techniques and nuances involved in the art, Ace was miles behind. His arsenal was limited to extremely basic slashes and his parries weren’t super consistent. The other problem was that he just wasn’t used to fighting with a sword for long periods of time. No matter how athletic one might be, their body wouldn’t just do something without conditioning. Exchanging strikes, blocks, and parries wore Ace’s arms out quickly and he could suddenly feel the lactic acid taking refuge in his shoulders.

There was also the fact that Annabeth was a strategic genius. She had realized all of these things faster than Ace, but she had also realized his primary advantages were his footwork and unorthodox style. The best way to neutralize that, in her opinion, was to get Ace pinned into a corner, which she had done within about ninety seconds; which actually wasn’t an overly short period of time by duelling standards.

Cornered, outmatched, and heavy-armed, Ace lost his sword about fifteen seconds after being pinned into a corner and Annabeth’s blade found its way under his chin just seconds later.

“Match,” declared Chiron, prompting Annabeth to remove her sword and allow Ace to pick up his own.

He shook her hand with a blank expression. “Congratulations,” he said in a slightly clipped tone. “You’re very good at this. I look forward to the rematch in the future.”

He turned on the spot, eager to get away from his defeater and out of the amphitheatre. He could already feel the frustration boiling in the pit of his stomach and he wished so badly that somebody had recorded the duel. He wanted to rewatch it and learn exactly where he had failed. It bothered him to no end that he had lost his first duel, no matter who it was against.

Ace felt a hand on his shoulder before he could make it far. He turned to see Annabeth’s grey eyes studying him very intently. 

“You’re going to be an incredible swordsman,” she told him. “Everything they said about you is true, but natural ability can’t beat years of experience. You have every natural tool to beat me, but your technique needs work.” She gave him a nervous look. “I know you don’t trust me, but I think you trust Luke even less, and I think we’re the only two people in camp who are capable of helping you reach your potential. If you’d let me, I’d be open to helping you improve on your actual form and technique.”

Ace had not expected that.

He didn’t trust Annabeth, per se, but he certainly trusted her more than Luke; she was at least correct in assuming that much. The calculating gleam that perpetually lurked behind her eyes still put him naturally on edge, but this seemed like an opportunity too good to refuse. In martial arts, hockey, and most other things in life, Ace had learned that the best way of improving was to train with and learn from those who were better than you.

If he had his way, Annabeth wouldn’t be better than him for long, but she had proven her admirable aptitude tonight and it was something Ace couldn’t ignore.

“I would appreciate it,” he said with a genuine smile. 

She returned the expression. “We’ll talk after breakfast tomorrow. I’ll just need to sort some things out with my schedule.”

His stomach still writhing with frustration, but his annoyance slightly lifted; Ace went to find Cato, Andy, and Blaze in the stands. As much as he wanted to just leave the amphitheatre, he thought they would appreciate him not running off.

“Don’t worry, bubba,” was the first thing Cato said, a gleam present in his eyes as Andy fussed over whether or not he had received any injuries in the duel. “You’ll be beatin’ her soon. We’ll make sure of it.”

__**December 17, 2004  
Camp Halfblood   
8:00 PM**

The night was crisp and the wind was bitter, as one might expect from an evening in the middle of December. In the days just past, a thin coat of snow had blanketed the large valley in which Camp Halfblood was nestled. It gave an entirely new light to the camp, and as a Canadian, Ace felt right at home. The camp could apparently regulate the weather it experienced — within reason. Although the camp could regulate the weather it experienced, some of the older campers had informed the new arrivals that the wintery weather was usually allowed in, if for no other reason than to add to the festive spirit.

Tonight, Ace was grateful that the snowfall had been minimal, for vast amounts of the substance would have made the night’s game of capture the flag all the more difficult. 

Ace had allied himself with the cabins for Hermes, Athena, Apollo, and Demeter. They would be opposing the children of Ares, Hephaestus, Dionysus, and Aphrodite. 

Ace thought the sides were relatively well-balanced, from what he had observed so far. Ares and Athena were definitely the powerhouse cabins, with Apollo and Hephaestus essentially cancelling each other out. Apollo’s affinity for archery would be paramount, but going up against Hephaestus in the numerous traps they would inevitably set was a harrowing experience. Demeter was generally looked down upon, but they could somewhat command the foliage, which was certainly of use in the forest. From what Ace could tell, the two quiet sons of the Wine God were actually quite competent, but numbers obviously weren’t on their side. The Aphrodite cabin seemed mostly to be a non-factor, but Silena Beauregard was handy with a sword and, according to Annabeth’s pre-match lecture, she was gifted in something called charmspeak. 

Charmspeak, in Ace’s opinion, sounded like the most terrifying thing in the world. The mere thought of being commanded against his will was something straight out of his nightmares and he quickly and internally vowed to avoid Silena Beauregard during the game at all costs. Apparently, there was a girl named Drew Tanaka who could do it as well, just to a lesser extent.

“Ace, Cato,” said Annabeth, “you two will go with Connor, Travis, and a few other Hermes campers. Malcolm and some of the Athena cabin will follow you as well.”

“Not to butt in or anything,” said Ace, “but this sort of sounds like you’re putting two newbies in charge of our front.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, Iverson.”

“May I ask why?”

Her eyes gleamed. “Because I don’t know two campers better at causing mayhem than you two, and mayhem is exactly what we need.”

Ace looked towards Cato, who was grinning like a madman. “Trust me, sis,” he said with a demonic-expression, “we can do you some mayhem.”

Andreia watched from the shadows as her contingent tore off after the flag, with the exception of the few left behind to manage the perimeter. 

Technically, she was supposed to be retreating further back into the forest to closely cover their flag, but Cato had other plans. Plans that she viewed as far more useful deployments of her talents than closely watching the flag.

_**Minutes earlier…** _

Annabeth gave her final instructions to Ace, Cato and the others in their pack before making her way over to the group that would be led by her and Luke to give out their instructions. As soon as she left them, Cato whispered something in Ace’s ear and the two of them quickly made their way towards Andy and Blaze.

“Blaze, you’re with us,” said Cato, to which the boy nodded mutely. “Andy… I got somethin’ different for you.”

“Different?” she asked, her interest piqued. Annabeth and Luke had grouped her with the small contingent that would be closely guarding their flag, which she thought sounded terribly boring.

“Yup,” answered Cato with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “Different’s one way of sayin’ it.” When Andy just gazed up at him with wide, curious eyes, he relented. “How would you like to use them pretty little powers of yours? Ya know, the ones we ain’t told nobody about so far.”

Her grin in response was infectious. 

_**Back in the present…** _

With a coy smile stretching her lips to their limit, Andreia glanced around to ensure nobody was watching her. When she was confident her next move would go unnoticed, she stepped into the water which divided the forest almost perfectly in half and submerged herself.

Everything was going to hell until Cato had pulled out the grenade.

Ace, Blaze, Cato, the Stolls, and a few others had walked right into the heart of the opposition’s defence. Ace could only hope they managed to occupy them long enough for Luke, Annabeth, and the rest of their group to get the flag. He was fairly sure they would be overrun soon, as there were more defenders than there were attackers. Ace was moving like a whirlwind, knocking opponents to the forest floor left and right, but he knew they wouldn’t last much longer.

And then, Cato pulled out the grenade.

Apparently, the one he had used during the Battle of Halfblood Hill hadn’t been the last strobe grenade he had after all. Its light was blinding as it detonated directly into the centre of an attacking crowd, painting the world a more vivid depiction of the colour than that which comprised the snow on the ground. 

Just as the light filled the affected area, arrows soared in from all directions and Annabeth, Luke and several others rushed in from the shadows, making a beeline for the flag.

“Get them!” called the large, muscular Ares camper who had been left in charge of guard duty. 

Several campers converged on Annabeth, but it was too late to prevent the capture, for she had already snatched the flag. 

What they did manage to do was to make her life a whole lot more difficult.

They had her and Luke — the two members who managed to penetrate the defences — surrounded in seconds. The Apollo kids were firing off arrows, but they wouldn’t be fast enough. They were about to lose their two leaders.

“Ace!” The boy in question perked up at the sound of his name just in time to see Annabeth hurl the flag. It shouldn’t have worked, as a flag is not meant to sail through the air like a paper airplane, but Ace and air had an odd relationship.

He broke off from the fighting and began sprinting back towards the water that divided the two sides, willing the flag to soar further and further through the air until, without looking up, he sensed it nearing him, reached out his hand, and caught it.

By the time he had done so, he could see the water ahead and for a second, he felt elated. It was his first capture the flag game and he was going to make the winning run. There was very little he could think that would have added to the performance.

Until he realized that Clarisse had their flag and was also sprinting towards the junction. 

Ace was pulling away from his pursuers, using the air to the best of his abilities to bat aside any long-range attacks sent his way. He was moving at speeds much faster than Clarisse, but she was far closer to the creek. She would reach the water first, if only by seconds. 

Ace’s calculations were proven correct just as Clarisse bent her legs, intent on leaping over the most narrow bit of water…

Water that exploded upwards — far more water than the creek should have contained — and intercepted Clarisse, forming something of a wall to prevent her crossing. A wall that she slammed face first into and a wall that tossed her back as if she was some carelessly discarded children’s toy. Seconds later, Ace leapt across and unlike how it had impeded Clarisse, the water slammed into his feet, propelling him up and forwards and sending him across the stream.

Just like that, they had won the game; an occasion marked off by Andreia rising on a geyser like some immortal goddess of the stream.

Chiron’s conch horn sounded far too loud as he moved towards them as everyone gathered in the clearing had fallen silent, each of them gaping at Andreia as if they were fish who had swum free of the geyser she had just created.

Ace and Cato exchanged horrified looks.

Cato had become lost in his desire to win and hadn’t thought through the repercussions of having Andreia manipulate the water. Ace hadn’t thought of them either, lost in the same competitive streak that had fuelled him for years.

And now, because of it, Andreia was going to get claimed as the daughter of Poseidon, validating their theory and exposing her to all of the problems felt by children of the Big Three.

That was what Ace and Cato thought, anyway.

The truth was far less predictable.

Just as a dumbstruck Chiron opened his mouth to speak, the air around Andreia began to glow with a light not too dissimilar from that which had surrounded Cato on the night of Thanksgiving.

The difference was that, in this case, the light was blue instead of silver.

And in place of the majestic owl that had hovered above Cato’s head, the halo of bluish light floating atop Andreia was not an owl, nor was it the expected trident.

It was a great dolphin; the symbol of a goddess none of them had expected.

“It is decided,” said Chiron, breaking the shocked silence that had befallen the clearing and lasted for no less than a minute. “Show respect, campers, to Andreia Lopez, daughter of Amphitrite; wife of Poseidon, daughter of Oceanus and Tethys, Goddess of the Sea, mother of dolphins. Indeed, it is a… most unexpected development.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I do hope the Andreia reveal lived up to its hype. I did heavily hint at Poseidon in hopes of leading some astray, so I hope I was successful.**
> 
> **To any who would argue Amphitrite wouldn’t cheat on Poseidon… we can respectfully disagree, and my viewpoint will be explained later.**
> 
> **And yes, the creak is not that deep in canon… I decided to change it, because AUs exist for a reason.**
> 
> **Also… I’m sorry to any who may not be happy with the protagonist actually losing — you would be surprised how many people get upset by that — but there was just no way Ace was beating Annabeth with a week and a half of training. It doesn’t matter how talented he is.**
> 
> **Character development is also just fun, so there is that :)**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **Thank you to my lovely Discord Editor Asmodeus Stahl for his corrections/contributions this week.**
> 
> **A massive thank you is also extended to my first top-tier Patron, Κυρία της φωτιάς, Lily of Dreams, for her generous support on that platform! It continues to boggle my mind each and every day, and it is something for which I will be forever grateful!**
> 
> **PS: Season 1’s finale will be posted next Sunday, March 7th, 2021.**


	18. The Long Foresworn Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the PJO universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. I make no claim to ownership.**
> 
> **Acknowledgements: Thank you to my mythical editor Fezzik, as well as my betas Luq707, Athena Hope, Raven0900 and Yoshi89 for their legendary work on this story.**
> 
> **Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. You can do likewise to follow me on Twitter for live updates and to check out my official website.**
> 
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_**December 17, 2004  
Camp Halfblood  
8:48 PM** _

“Huh,” murmured Cato as the crowd broke out into tumultuous muttering following the shocking revelation that had been Andy’s parentage. “I did not expect that.”

“You and everyone else,” Ace agreed in a low whisper, though, to Cato, he sounded a touch distracted. 

It was an accurate assessment, for his eyes had drifted and found Andy quickly. She was looking dazed by the whole thing but altogether did not appear to be in too rough a state. Ace resolved to watch over her, since he had no doubt this would cause rumblings. Not nearly as many as there would have been had she been claimed by Poseidon, but this was different in various ways.

For one, the camp didn’t formally recognize the minor gods. Not in the same way as the Olympians, at least. They weren’t discussed nearly as often as their Olympian counterparts and, as far as Ace knew, no one at Camp Halfblood had ever been formally claimed by any god who wasn’t one of the major twelve that made up the pantheon.

Until now, at least.

There was also the interesting fact that this meant Amphitrite had cheated on Poseidon. Ace found it odd how the thought seemed abnormal, but it did. Poseidon had cheated on her countless times if the myths were to be believed. Why the thought she might return the favour seemed so odd, Ace didn’t know. Perhaps it was just the amount of power Poseidon wielded. Or perhaps it was the fact that neither Hera nor Persephone — the wives of Poseidon’s brothers, Zeus and Hades, respectively — had never cheated on them.

“This is gonna be fun,” said Cato, rubbing his hands together with glee evident in his posture and expression.

“Oh?” asked Ace.

“All everyone talks about is Poseidon. I dunno what the hell the difference is in the powers between children of Poseidon and children of Amphitrite, but I damn sure ain’t gonna rest until I find out.” The light in his eyes seemed to intensify. “If nobody’s seen a child of Amphitrite before and they don’t know what she can do either, I can use this.”

Ace would have shuddered had he not been the man’s best friend.

_**December 18, 2004  
The Dining Pavilion   
7:48 PM** _

Dinner had thus far passed as usual the night after Andreia had been claimed, even if everything else hadn’t passed in the same mundane, uniform matter.

There had been logistical issues when Andreia had been claimed by Amphitrite. Not least of which being that Camp Halfblood didn’t actually have an Amphitrite cabin, as was the case for all of the minor gods. This raised an interesting dilemma of where Andy would sleep, even if the eventual decision wasn’t all that difficult.

The Hermes cabin, as always, offered their hospitality and generously agreed to house Andreia full-time. Ace had winced at the revelation, knowing that Andy was now doomed to an eternity in the cramped confines of the clustered cabin. She seemed unbothered and was actually far more annoyed by the fact Triton had been her actual brother and she had never once realized it.

Stares followed her the next day and Ace had to crush the selfish impulse to enjoy that fact. Not at Andy’s expense, but it was nice to not be the centre of attention for a day. Not only had Andy become the first camper in recent history to be claimed by a god not part of the Olympian council, but she had also demonstrated power that — except for the tornado that Ace himself hadn’t even conjured — the camp hadn’t seen since the days of the Second World War.

Andy seemed to be taking it in stride thus far, though she seemed blissfully ignorant as to the magnitude of what she had done. She acted as if controlling water on such a scale was trivial, which only added credence to her newly-found reputation — something Ace remained conflicted about. So long as it didn’t visibly bother her, he supposed he would revel in the semblance of a break he was presently receiving.

The normality of the night’s affairs was shattered, pulling Ace promptly from his thoughts as Chiron — in full, centaur form — took to his feet, banging his hoof loudly against the pavilion's stone floor to gain the attention of all gathered.

“I have news,” he told the crowd, waiting for the muttering to die down before he proceeded any further. “On the afternoon of Tuesday, the 20th of December, we will all be embarking on a trip into New York City.” More muttering. “A trip that will see us to the Empire State Building, up to the hidden six-hundredth floor, and onto Mount Olympus itself, where we will observe the winter solstice meeting that will begin at midnight on the 21st and spend the night.”

Ace’s mind blanked, which didn’t seem to be a problem for most gathered at their respective tables. Muttering didn’t describe any of what was going on. There were now full-blown, energetic conversations erupting all around the pavilion, spreading and increasing in volume like a wildfire might in heat.

Chiron stamped his hoof once more, pulling everyone out of their respective conversations. 

“It should go without saying that this is a massive honour. It is one the camp hasn’t been granted since before the outbreak of the First World War. Naturally, you are all expected to be on the very best of behaviour. For those of you not yet claimed, this will be an opportunity to make an impression. You won’t do so by speaking up or being brash, but by showing the manners and dignity one would expect from you. For those of you already claimed, it is doubtless your respective parents will be watching you.” Ace noticed the way Chiron’s eyes fixed exclusively upon him with the speaking of that last sentence, but he tried to ignore the centaur’s stare. “Be on your best behaviour and enjoy what can best be described as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Chiron’s speech then came to a close, which prompted noise to rapidly spread through the dining area once more. 

For his part, Ace was lost in thought. After Hades had seemingly tried so hard to kill him for merely existing, it raised the very serious question of how the gods of Olympus would react to him, the physical manifestation of a broken pact. Hades did sit on his throne on the winter solstice, after all, which was going to make the occasion all the more uncomfortable.

Ace tried to take comfort in the fact that his father — the same one who had given him his blessing during the Battle of Halfblood Hill — was the King of the Gods. Hopefully, his influence would be enough to keep any of the other gods from intervening. 

Not that Ace thought any of them were going to strike him down.

That was far too extreme and it would probably cause them just as many problems as it would solve. More likely, they would be tempted to act in less direct ways, which was what he was hoping wouldn’t happen.

He supposed the only way to find out was to wait for this once-in-a-lifetime’ opportunity to come to fruition.

He glanced over towards Cato, who was watching him from his place at the Athena table. They nodded at each other and Ace took no small bit of amusement in the fact that, even in the presence of gods, Cato would likely have a plan. Not that it would necessarily work, but he would most certainly have one.

__**December 20, 2004  
The Sword Fighting Arena  
11:00 AM**

Ace winced as he stepped out of the amphitheatre after nearly three hours inside, reacting both to the stabs of pain his sore muscles were subjecting him to, as well as the bright streams of sunlight dazzlingly reflecting off of the light coating of snow which blanketed the camp.

He had just finished his first specialized lesson in sword fighting from Annabeth and it had been a surprisingly humbling experience.

There were things he did which she said nobody at the camp could match. His movement and footwork were such that she had never seen anything like it. His understanding and anticipation of range and distance were also extraordinary, as was his capacity to recognize holes in his opponent’s defence. His offensive repertoire, however, was very limited; as was the case with his arsenal of defensive tricks.

Annabeth had spent most of the session running him through drills to aid him in the building of muscle memory for several fundamental movement patterns which would be necessary for a vast number of the standardized techniques. This was probably the most at home he had felt thus far at camp. This was basic for him; something he had been doing for most of his life, if admittedly not in the context of mastering archaic forms of weaponized combat.

Annabeth herself was surprisingly helpful. She answered any questions he had and was a fairly strict taskmaster, but she wasn’t unreasonable or unnecessarily harsh. In the same vein, she didn’t praise him for picking up on a technique, she just nodded in satisfaction before moving onto the next.

It was a nice balance in the given context, though Ace still watched her closely. She seemed genuine in everything she did and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had misjudged her. He wasn’t going to bank on that assumption though, and he would continue being cautious, but he couldn’t see a motive for her taking the time out of her day to aid him in the endeavour. Not unless she thought it would gain her his allegiance, or something, but he thought her smart enough to realize that would be an exercise in futility. 

The fact he couldn’t find a motive made him trust her both more and less, but he would be watching her closely. So long as no motive continued to present itself as a viable explanation, Ace supposed he may one day have to admit his initial suspicion had been for nothing.

It was a preferable alternative, one he hoped would become reality in time. The same hope extended to Luke, who Ace had spent far less time interacting with at camp, but who Andy liked more than all but the three campers she had arrived with.

In time, perhaps he would prove his suspicions unfounded as well.

_**Hours later, on Mount Olympus…** _

The campers had left for New York later that day. The idea was that they would arrive and see the gods’ council meeting that would take place at the stroke of midnight, right as the calendar switched over to the winter solstice. 

They had all piled into a large number of vans, branded with the marketing associated with the camp’s strawberry business. Ace had ended up in one with his three best friends and Argus as the driver. He thought that was no coincidence, and he couldn’t really blame whoever had come up with the idea. He and Cato really did just have an innate talent for attracting trouble of all varieties.

He had never spent any meaningful period of time in New York City before, so he was quite intrigued by the sights as they drove ever closer to the Empire State Building. It was a fun place to visit, but Ace knew at once he could never live there. The bustle in a city like Ottawa bothered him often, so he could only imagine what levels of insanity he would achieve if he were constantly exposed to the mad hustle of a city like New York.

Entering the Empire State Building was a fairly normal experience, right until Chiron had asked for admission to the six-hundredth floor. The guard behind the desk had eyed the seemingly wheelchair-bound man with great confusion, but that had all changed when Argus — whose hands had been up his sleeves — held one of them out to reveal the eyes all over him. The ones on his face had been mostly obscured by what Chiron had called a “manipulation of the Mist” and the rest of him was covered. Upon showcasing his rather… unique anatomy, Argus quickly gained them the access they had desired.

Ace was among the first to ride the elevator up further than any elevator should ever be able to travel. The music was incredibly dull, but it hardly mattered as his heart threatened to beat straight out of his chest.

All impressions of dull, mundane things vanished as soon as the elevator dinged and opened its doors, at which point Ace’s eyes seemed to break their connection with his brain.

The latter was insisting, in no uncertain terms, that the former was having a laugh. His eyes seemed to argue back, reaffirming that the reality of the situation was indeed what they were indicating. After nearly a full minute of rapidly blinking, pinching himself, and doing several other innocuous things to test his coherence and consciousness, Ace’s brain reluctantly had to concede that his eyes had won this round.

The peak of a mountain hovered there, suspended hundreds of feet above the tallest of Manhattan’s many skyscrapers. It looked as though it had been cut straight off of the real Mount Olympus in Greece whenever the Olympians had first relocated and had just travelled with them all this time, even though Ace knew such things to be impossible.

But that wasn’t even the thing that most effectively stole his breath away.

An ancient, stone-flagged bridge traversed the space between where the few campers who had taken the first elevator up to Olympus stood and the mountain peak. It just floated there without the need of any architectural support, leading to what appeared to be a utopia far too perfect to exist in the real world.

Yet there it was.

On the other side of the floating bridge, a path twisted and wove through the breathtaking buildings that were tastefully dotted all over the mountain peak. The path was not made of stone, but of real gold; which seemed to impossibly reflect the light as it danced across the gold’s surface in odd, enchanting ways that defied the laws of optics altogether.

Temples of gold, silver, marble and other materials Ace didn’t even know were everywhere. Some were small and built so elaborately that mortal architects and engineers alike would have fainted. Others were simple, yet so large and ostentatious they put anything Ace had ever seen to shame.

And there, off in the distance, was their final destination. 

A massive, sparkling palace that seemed to be bathed in an odd, golden light. The pure gold which made up the palace was all around it, encompassing the entire courtyard. In the centre of the garden sat trees that Ace thought must have bore the fruit of eternal life; the gleaming fruit adorning their branches looked too majestic to be anything less. Music was emanating from the courtyard as well, and Ace and the others would only realize when they drew closer that the twelve muses were playing a concert right outside the palace’s main entrance. 

Ace’s trance was broken by a firm hand on his shoulder. “Come,” said Chiron, smiling softly at the dumbstruck expressions worn by everyone around him. “The next group will be getting off the elevator shortly and we must be on our way. The last thing we would want is to be late to an event orchestrated by the gods themselves.”

_**At midnight, in the throne room…** _

The throne room was as immaculate as one could imagine, as were the thrones the twenty-foot gods sat upon as they discussed the business of the month.

There had been a moment of real trepidation when Ace first entered the throne room; all the gods’ collective attention had rested upon him for several seconds before Athena had engaged their father in conversation, drawing the gods’ scrutiny away from him.

The campers had all gathered just before midnight, and at the stroke of the hour, the council meeting began. Nothing of major significance was brought forth, but just being there was truly an experience the likes of which were difficult to describe. 

After the meeting had been adjourned, the night’s real festivities began. Tables bearing all sorts of delicacies from all around the world — as well as nectar and ambrosia for the gods themselves — appeared around the room’s perimeter. The muses entered the hall, taking to a golden stage that wasn’t there a moment earlier, and began to play; just as all sorts of nymphs, minor gods, and minor goddesses filtered into the room, many of them pairing up to dance.

Neither Ace nor Cato were particularly interested in dancing, so they stuck mostly to the perimeter of the room; Ace occasionally filling a plate with some sort of delicacy while Cato made a valiant effort at systemically devouring everything in sight.

Andy and Blaze occasionally dropped in on the duo, though both of them actually did spend a considerable period of time dancing. Annabeth visited with them for a while before disappearing back into the crowd, though she reappeared later with a tall woman who looked stunningly similar to her.

Neither Ace nor Cato had any problem recognizing her, and both of their postures stiffened at once.

“Mother,” said Annabeth, speaking more formally than either boy had heard her before. “This is your son, Cato, and his friend, Ace.”

“A pleasure to meet you both.” Her voice was perfectly modulated, putting forth the perfect amount of inflection in every syllable. “Cato, I shall return to speak with you soon, if you are agreeable?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered automatically. Ace would have smirked had Athena not spoken up next, looking directly at Ace as she did so.

“Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a question so much as it was a polite order, one Ace could do nothing but comply with. He realized even before it became obvious it was simply a way of getting him relatively alone to speak privately. Perhaps she didn’t want to remove him from the throne room for any number of reasons. Speaking in the centre of a bustling crowd was an effective form of cover, for the chatter of others would do an admirable job of obscuring the words spoken between acquaintances, close or otherwise. 

Not that he doubted Athena could have simply willed their conversation to go unheard.

“You are quite close with two of my children,” she started.

“One of them,” Ace countered politely. “Cato is my closest friend, but I wouldn’t say I know Annabeth all that well and I really don’t spend much time with her.”

“You are closer than you realize,” Athena said lightly. “In time, the reasons for my observation will become obvious. For now, simply take my word for it.” 

There wasn’t exactly much Ace could say to that, so he just nodded stoically. 

“I cherish all of my children equally, but they are not all equal.” Ace wondered whether or not she would speak in riddles for the entire conversation. “All of my children are gifted but, as is the case with human nature, some are gifted with the capacity to outpace their fellows. 

She studied him carefully, obviously ensuring he was keeping up. “Among my many children, it is Cato and Annabeth who can go further than any other. This doesn’t mean I cherish them more than the others, but it does mean — even outside of myself — the council should have a vested interest in the both of them.”

“Why is it you’re telling me this, if I may ask?”

“Of course you may. I am the Goddess of Wisdom and perhaps the single most unlikely being in the universe to deem curiosity as a sin. That doesn’t mean it is without the potential for danger and destruction, but a sin it is not. I am telling you this because you are the son of Zeus. I know you tire of hearing it already, but it is something you must live with. It is something you will endure forever and there will scarcely be a time when the fact is anything but directly relevant.”

“I don’t exactly follow why it’s relevant here.”

“When discussing your lineage with Chiron, he told you that the children of Kronos’s three Olympian sons were changing the course of history too directly.” Ace nodded, suspicious, sky-blue eyes fixed closely on the goddess’s stormy grey ones. “This is true for many reasons. Of course, the power these children wield is the most obvious, but it comes with consequences not often considered.

“The universe centres on many principles. How this works is not of importance and is not something I feel the need to elaborate on. The important thing is that this is true and that one of the key components is balance. You will doubtlessly have heard the expression that with great power comes great responsibility?” Ace gave an affirmative gesture and Athena continued. 

“This fact is more true than mortals could ever realize. I spoke earlier of equality and the same is true among demigods not of the same parentage. The world is not equal. You were born with the potential to become one of the great heroes to ever live. This is true of all Big Three children, even if not all of them see that potential through. Most of them don’t, of course, for there can only be one called the greatest at a time. 

“The point is that this potential exists and the universe, as well as the forces which govern over it, are well aware of this. Oftentimes, these heroes are born with other things too. Fates and destinies, above many other things.”

“So because I’m more powerful than other demigods, my life is predestined?”

“That isn’t how fate works, child. Fate is a set of circumstances that may or may not happen. And from those circumstances, more outcomes than the human mind can comprehend branch off in all possible directions. Fate does not mean your life or your choices are preordained. Fate means that those cursed with it are chosen to land themselves in situations set out before them long ago. What becomes of these situations is impossible to predict, but it often sets other events into motion, usually events that scale in significance to those who bring their existence forth.

“I say none of this to frighten you, but to inform you as to why I am interested. I do not threaten you, nor do I endorse you, I simply warn you. Your fate may be greater and more terrible than either of my children. I do not wish to see either of them swept into something terrible, though I understand you might not be responsible for whatever it is that befalls you in the future. Just know that I am watching you. If I see positive things, we shall speak again in a positive light.”

“And if you don’t?”

Her face remained impassive. “That bridge will be crossed if and when we arrive at it.”

Her parting words left Ace feeling more than a little bit tense, standing in the centre of the dance floor and gazing around the room. He noticed that several nymphs were eyeing him with startling intensity and decided getting out of the hall’s centre may be in his best interests. 

Before he could, someone spoke from right behind him.

“What ails you?”

Ace recognized the voice from the recent council meeting and turned around very slowly. 

Standing before him was the tallest of the gods, though he was in his more reasonable human form now. His physique resembled that of the statues that had depicted him in ancient times, though it was hidden beneath the gold-threaded robes of white he wore. His face was weathered and though he didn’t look particularly old, he certainly had the visage of one who had seen a great many things. His eyes were the same sky blue as his son’s, and his hair and beard were as dark grey as the angriest of storm clouds.

“Father.”

“Son.” 

They studied each other intently, each taking in all they could of the other before the King of the Gods spoke once more. “Come.” 

He strode straight towards the throne room’s exit, Ace following in his wake, not sparing a glance to either side. He had no doubt they were the centre of many’s attention and he wanted to move accordingly — with as much confidence and composure as he could muster.

Zeus not only led him from the throne room, but from the palace and its grounds altogether. They walked off the golden path and right up to the side of the mountain peak, where the two of them finally stopped. 

The view was breathtaking.

A sea of lights, so vast it was hard to imagine, stretched out many hundreds of feet below them. Ace could see everything; even the entire outline of Manhattan island. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ace nodded. “Probably the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You will see many things in the coming years,” said his father. “Some of them I think will put this view to shame, and some of them would seek to destroy such a beautiful place.”

“Because of fate?”

“Perhaps, but perhaps not.” Ace kept staring straight ahead. “The truth of the matter is that fate would likely lead you down that path eventually, but you might well walk it of your own accord. My children have a habit of finding themselves in situations of great importance — even without the guiding hand of fate.”

“Was it fate that had me chased across America, or was that just because of my own actions?”

“It’s impossible to say. It certainly could have been fate, but it is without a doubt because of you. If you hadn’t pursued your dreams so fiercely, you would never have been in that situation. The truth about fate, Ace, is that it cannot make one’s choices for them. It can influence events to change the way a person might think about their choices, but it cannot dictate how a person thinks or acts.”

“What is it you’re trying to tell me, Father?”

“That in the coming years, many will place their hopes and dreams upon you. It isn’t fair and you will despise it, and for that, I am sorry.” 

He genuinely sounded it, and his tone of voice was the first thing during their conversation that made Ace take his attention off of the stunning view and focus upon his father.

“You should have never been born,” said Zeus. Ace felt as though he had been physically struck, but Zeus continued speaking. “It isn’t something that should have happened, but I do not regret it, nor will I apologize for it.”

Ace, whose gaze had fallen after his father’s previous confession, looked back up to meet his stare once more. 

“What I will apologize for, is what your existence will bring down upon you simply because you are my son. It isn’t fair and I wish I could prevent it, but I cannot.”

“That’s nothing new.” Ace’s voice came out more bitter than he had meant it, but both of them knew his statement held true. 

“It isn’t,” admitted Zeus. “I am sorry for all that has accosted you already in your life, but if you will forgive me, I am happy it has happened.” Ace’s eyes widened. “Not because of how it has affected you, but because of what it has made you.

“It has made you a leader. I know you don’t agree and that you hate the mere idea. You think you are not suited for it, but you are. Your life has equipped you with every tool needed to lead, and the struggles your reputation has brought down upon you have strengthened your mind in a way most could not understand. They have led you to understand people and the human condition in a way most cannot claim to match, which has made you strong in a way most are not. You’re a good person who is strong of mind and has all the tools he needs going forward, regardless of what the future holds. Those tools will need to be sharpened, and even in some cases discovered, but they are there.

“I do apologize for all that is to come, whether it is the doing of fate or just the byproduct of you being my son and the person that you are. I can do nothing to stop it, but I can give you what I only hope will be advice that may aid you in the future.

“You have been told of fate tonight by my daughter, and now we speak of it once more. Whether through fate or your own actions entirely unrelated, you will find yourself in dark and difficult times. This is true of all demigods, but especially of my children. You will be asked to see those less equipped to handle said situations through to the other side and it will be difficult. Choices will need to be made; choices that may shape the future of our world, and choices that no mortal should ever be tasked with making. 

“Remember what it is I have told you. You have everything a person needs to make the right choices and no force in the universe can make those choices for you. When the time comes to make difficult decisions, think of what it is that makes you yourself. Think about what it is you hold dear and what it is that choice would mean. Think of yourself, your life and your future, and think of this conversation. Stay true to all of that, and I have no doubt you will find the light at the end of whatever tunnel you find yourself in.”

Zeus rested his hands on Ace’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Stay true to yourself and all will be well.” 

Ace didn’t know what all of that meant but he nodded and allowed himself to be led back into the throne room as he deeply contemplated all that had transpired that night.

_**Some time later…** _

“It will happen tonight.”

The same inhuman voice that had dominated Ace’s dream the last time he had awoken in this cave-like place rang through his thoughts as soon as he became entrenched in yet another nightmare. 

Though this time, he could speak.

“What’s going to happen? Who are you? What is it you want with me and where are we?”

“So many insightful questions from one so young.” 

The voice sounded amused, which was an odd dichotomy for a voice that sounded like metal grinding on metal. 

“What is going to happen soon can best be described as a revolution. Those who join it will rise to unimagined heights and bury the old, broken world underneath the rubble which they used to build themselves up.” Ace could practically see the sneer forming on the face of whatever was speaking as he spoke his next words. “Those who are foolish enough to oppose such a revolution will soon find themselves standing at what might best be explained as the precipice of peril.”

“Whatever you’re doing, you plan to do it by force.”

“There is no other way. Not when dealing with systemic problems that have been so deeply ingrained in your society for millennia. Change must be made from the top down, which will indeed require a shocking amount of force.”

“You haven’t answered any of my other questions,” Ace pointed out.

“I suppose I haven’t. What I want with you should be clear. You are an intelligent child who has no doubt put together exactly what it is I want.” The voice again sounded amused. “Intentionally misinterpreting information to probe is a tactic which will not work on me, child. No form of manipulation you could ever devise would, so I advise you cease your efforts.”

“And the very blunt questions I asked you?”

“I want you to join this revolution, as you very well know. I have a prominent member already, but nothing would quite eclipse the son of Zeus turning traitor.”

“And if I refuse?”

There was a slight pause. “You will be overcome, just as all other obstacles will be.”

“And my other questions?”

“You stand at the mouth of something so intrinsically horrible that you might fail to comprehend it unless you experience it yourself. A place so dark that the gods themselves fear it. A place so malevolent that the Olympians themselves wonder if, upon entering it, they would ever come out again.”

“Tartarus,” breathed Ace, finally putting all of the pieces together. 

The gaping chasm in the centre of the cave could be nothing but the entrance to Tartarus.

But that left one important question unanswered.

“Who are you?”

“A visionary,” said the voice. “One who has changed the world before and one who will see the universe’s principle force come full circle when I revolutionize the world again. I am the bringer of many things and the soon to be harbinger of a new reality. Now, it is time for you to answer my question. Will you join me in this pursuit?”

Ace hesitated for a number of seconds before the gentle sound of footsteps made itself known from not far away. 

“Your time is running thin, boy.”

Ace’s face hardened. “History is filled with delusional men screaming of revolutions and of rebuilding the world. Those men usually cause the most destruction. Usually, because they’re experts with propaganda, and usually because ‘revolution’ is just another word for mass, violent takeover by any means necessary.”

“So your answer is no?”

“It is. I won’t be joining any worldwide revolutions without very specific information that I can already tell you won’t give me.”

The footsteps drew nearer as the silence in the cave stretched on. 

“Very well,” said the voice. “I see you have made your choice. I will need to build the world anew without your aid, it seems. Prepare yourself, Ace Iverson. The revolution is coming… whether you like it or not.”

Just before whomever the footsteps belonged to entered the cave, Ace snapped back to consciousness; sitting upright with a jolt as he glanced rapidly around the room he and his companions slept in, his breathing fast and laboured.

He was now sure of one thing; one thing Annabeth had hinted at back in the tent on the outskirts of Boston.

Whatever these visions were, they were no simple dreams.

Such a shame that those visions didn’t show him the other person who laid awake not far away from him.

_**Minutes later…** _

The figure’s heart was racing as he very slowly crept into the throne room.

Mercifully, it was empty, just as the voice in his dream had told him it would be.

He soon stood before a throne of pure obsidian, on which rested a war helmet more powerful than any other garment in the world.

Hades’s Helm of Darkness.

Hesitantly, he reached out and took hold of it, causing it to shrink down to a more normal size as he carefully tucked it under his arm, creeping his way towards the largest and most ostentatious of the gathered thrones.

It was composed of black Egyptian marble, though lines of vivid lightning seemed to dance on the throne’s surface, standing out starkly against its otherwise dark composition.

Holstered on one of the throne’s arms was a long, metallic-looking object that hummed with power. Just being near it made his spine tingle and his very nerves tense in anticipation.

Standing before the throne of Zeus, the figure saw his entire life flash before his eyes. He saw what he could be under the gods’ rule, and he didn’t hate the things he saw. 

The other path… was less clear, though it was neither of his futures which sold him.

It was his past.

A past full of neglect and bitterness, emotions that drove people to do great things.

Terrible things, but great.

He didn’t love being called ‘the Fated Pawn’, but he certainly liked the idea of consciously stepping onto his own path.

And with that, the figure reached out and took hold of the Master Bolt. 

As he removed it from its holster, it sparked, sending dancing bolts of light all around the otherwise dark room, illuminating the gleam of malicious triumph in Luke Castellan's eyes.

He had indeed chosen the long forsworn path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****
> 
> **TO BE CONTINUED IN**  
>  SEASON 2:  
> ACE IVERSON AND THE PRECIPICE OF PERIL  
> Coming Some Time in the Second Half of 2021! 
> 
> **And with Luke’s prophecy now entirely fulfilled and the groundwork set for FoF’s next major arc, that is season 1 in the books!**
> 
> **It should be noted that ALL SEASONS WILL BE POSTED UNDER THIS SAME STORY! There will not be a seperate book posted, so make sure you stay tuned to this story to see when the next chapters come out. Also, they can be read much, much sooner by joining either my Discord server, or my P*T*E*N page. Either link can be found on my profile.**
> 
> **If you can’t tell already, season 2 will follow the general arc of Lightning Thief, though some things will go… differently.**
> 
> **Before that season begins, there will be some interlude chapters — I think the number will be around 5 — covering the time between December and June. They will focus on things not entirely exclusive to the current main arc, so I hope you guys are excited for some more diverse chapters coming soon.**
> 
> **Once those are all written and posted, season 2 will be officially underway!**
> 
> **Please read and review.**
> 
> **Thank you as always to my lovely Discord Editors Asmodeus Stahl, Mr. 3CP, and Regress for their corrections/contributions on this chapter.**


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